


The Harp He Loved

by B_Radley



Series: Rise and Fight Again [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Angst, Canon Compliant, Espionage, Ethical Dilemmas, Guilt, Mandalorians - Freeform, Multi, Pain, Rebellion, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:58:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 55,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9874667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley
Summary: Ahsoka Tano must struggle with her guilt and past to convince a former comrade to exercise restraint on a world that has asked for help from Bail Organa's embryonic movement. A world that has recently discovered rich resources on its moons. A world that has already drawn the attention of Imperial aligned interests.Failure will mean widespread bloodshed and an Imperial invasion.





	1. A Drop in the Bucket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A giant makes contact. Pirates and blasters are brought out.

**Prologue: Alderaan**  
**4 years, 2 months since the Cataclysm**

A powerful Senator listens to the report of his right-hand. She tells of a world in the Outer Rim. A world inhabited by refugees from a people and a homeworld turned upside down in the past two decades.

A culture of warriors, suddenly turned into a culture of pacifists.

A culture further ripped by a Sith and criminal underlings. A resultant siege to give the world back to its people. A siege led by a young ex-Jedi fighting on her own for the first time, and an ad hoc clone Force, joining with a sister of the murdered pacifist leader.

A siege that ultimately failed with the cataclysm that slaughtered the Jedi and replaced the Republic with an Empire. An Empire of darkness.

He listens as the young Naboo tells him of untold wealth discovered in the moons of the world. Wealth that may now have drawn others from the homeworld.

Others in sympathy to that New Order. 

The Senator; the leader of his peaceful, artistic world's government listens as his minister tells of a request for assistance to one of their agents. A hidden agent named for a mythical giant of another Core world.

An agent recruited in the blind by that same young ex-Jedi. His Fulcrum.

His paladin, now on another assignment. 

The Senator thinks of that paladin. Her losses. Her pain.

Her strength.

As he listens to another young woman with her own pain and strength, he weighs the risk. The risk to the Fulcrum of his hopes and dreams on a planet that only Imperial surrogates are engaged.

The risk of her not being engaged and other forces filling the vacuum for the tremendous wealth of these people.

Strong warriors, but unsophisticated farmers, unused to the raw wealth and power that these newly discovered resources can bring.

Exiles from their own world; but still in that world's sphere of influence.

Bail Organa listens to Nola Vorrserrie describe the situation with her usual mixture of intelligence, snark, and analysis. He makes his decision. 

"Have Fulcrum contact Balor and tell them to go to Stornan, Nola. I want more information before I commit her to contacting these people. It may stretch her too thin," he says firmly.

He can see the thoughtful look in her dark eyes. She nods. "Very well, Viceroy. She may not like it. She always needs another brick wall to bang that hard head against."

Organa smiles at the young woman's analysis. He can feel the concern behind the snark for his paladin.

 _She is not the only one with a hard head, my strong one,_ he thinks.

~+~+~+~+~+

Fenn Shy'sa looks at the young woman sleeping next to him. He can see the care on her face. The care for the world that she has found herself the de facto leader of. He reaches down and kisses her awake. As she puts her arms around his neck; his comm buzzes. They both close their eyes and break apart as they see the avatar on the display.

The avatar of a giant of a world of gamblers, engineers, smugglers, and fighters.

The avatar of one world of a beloved nephew.

Tehlen Skirata watches as the last holder and claimant of an ancient title of their homeworld answers the call. A call that will mean chaos or hope for Stornan. 

~+~+~+~+~+

A man once known by a number and a designation, but now carrying the name of a giant looks out over the assorted denizens in the very large bar. This is not the hole-in-the-wall cantina that he prefers to be lost in. This is a large, well-lighted bar with plenty of noise and conversation, as well as hundreds of patrons of the thousands of species in the galaxy.

All trying to blend in. To hide. 

As good a place as any for a large human-template being, whose hooded face, in a slight variation, had once been very prevalent in the universe. A being now traveling with a tiny girl. A girl that bears a version of his face, as well as the influences of another.

A young girl born of a twisted experiment; much like her father was, but is now the sole light of his life. A life now spent in the shadows, trying to undo the damage that his kind had perpetuated on the universe.

Perpetuated without even any agency; their control ripped away by a diabolical scheme decades, perhaps even centuries in the making.

He shakes his head at the dark thoughts. He looks out at the large bay window that overlooks the spaceport. His eyes are on the thick, verdant jungle beyond. A jungle full of predators and prey, but protected by decree on this world. A jungle teeming with life and death.

At this particular moment, he cares not for the wildlife. Only one life in particular. A beloved life for him - a man for who love had not been programmed and selected. A life that is echoed in the small being sitting next to him watching the zero-gee dancers cavort and flip on the stage. Life reflected in her unique eyes. One, the amber of his own.

The other, the dark, royal blue of the woman that had brought them to Ithor. A wisp of a bit of information. A possible sighting on this jungle world.

Enough to bring them both here. He closes his eyes as his mind wanders back to snapshots. Of the first time that he had met Elle Jaquindo. A shattered Padawan, her left arm missing at the elbow. Two of her friends lying dead in a desert arena.

A woman who he had helped bring back from the abyss. Within a few weeks, they were exploring feelings that neither had dealt with in their short lives - his even shorter than hers. Even now, by regular count, he had only just gotten out of his teens.

A life-time crammed into those two decades. The large man smiles slightly through the bit of tears. He was better off than many of his brothers - his _Vod'e_ in the language of his imprinted culture. The genetic experimentation that had produced him; that had given him slightly different features from them, had also slowed his aging, to where he only seemed to age at a slightly slower rate as his brothers, at least after his initial growth-spurt. He brings his thoughts back to the here and now, as he tries to figure a way out of their predicament. A predicament that had left their ship severely damaged in a small bay on the outskirts of the spaceport. He looks down. 

Drop, as another brother had dubbed him, a brother not of the same experiment, notices that the young girl is no longer eyeing the dancers with fascination. She looks at him intently. Looks at him with eyes much older than her physical form. She stands up in the booth and runs her small hands over his face.

She busies herself wiping away the small amount of tears. "You're thinking of _Buir_ Elle again, aren't you, _Buir?"_ she asks. His smile grows. "You know me too well, sweetie. I'm okay. Just trying to figure out how to get us out of here."

The wise-beyond-her years eyes roll. "I told you not to try to swing through those rocks in the canyon when we were attacked on Midlothian. The navicomputer wouldn't have gotten kriffed up and sent us here. You should have let me fly. I am better than you."

All said from a face and body that appear all of nine standard years old. _At least she got her mother's smarts._

"You know, it is not too late to go on a jungle safari. I am sure that there are hungry _molsume_ who might find your teensy ass a delectable, if a bit scrawny, snack. Plus, watch your language."

"From what Jaq' told me, they are a bit slow. I am agile. You are lumbering. All I gotta do is run faster than you. Plus, you taught me that word."

 _Well, she got my charm. Mixed with her mother's vocabulary._ Drop's eyes are pained as he remembers another of his Jedi. A small, scrappy Togruta, who had saved his life at least a couple of times on a desert hellhole. Another smartass wise beyond her years.

He feels his comm vibrate. He brings it out and reads the text. He smiles. "May have a way off of here, my love," he says. "Maybe we'll get to introduce you to some more of your heritage soon. How would you like to meet some Mandalorians?"

The man known by numbers and names and designations, but now known mostly by a descriptive codename, stands up. The young girl easily climbs up onto his shoulders.

 _Getting kind of big for this; but we can still get the hell out of here a lot faster if we need to,_ he thinks.

The operative for an embryonic movement known as Balor stands up and tosses a few coins on the table. He feels his daughter's small hands move over his hood.

A man now known by a chosen name, a name from his designation, but in the nearly dead language of his Jedi brother's birth-world, moves quickly out of the drinking pit.

Another watcher's eyes narrow as he moves. A smile flows to bronze eyes as she watches Niall Tredecima's purposeful stride.

~+~+~+~+~+

Other eyes watch the pair. A pair of near-almond shaped eyes lock onto the large clone. The rumors that they had heard from their slicer monitoring certain.....problems on Stornan indicated that someone there had sent several transmissions to this clone's ship. It was a lucky break that the clone and his apparent whelp were stranded here on Ithor. The sabotage of some of their control surfaces; and the "pirate" attack on them helped guide them here. Their contact couldn't provide any more information about what the transmissions were about, but it behooved his comrades to find out.

The owner of the eyes looks down at his wife. They nod to one another. He runs his hands through his wife's blonde hair. Her eyes smile at his.

Tommis Wren lifts the hand not wrapped around his wife's shoulders. He motions to a small group of Ithorian thugs. 

The first wave.

~+~+~+~+~+

Drop reaches for the door switch. As he does, a very tall Ithorian puts his hand on his. The clone's eyes lock on the bleary orbs on either side of his assailant's head. 

The vocoder over the neck slits whirs with static. "Leaving so soon, bantha? We haven't even had a dance, yet."

"Not into gills, Charmer," is the immediate response from the ex-trooper. At that riposte, Talle flips from his shoulder in a flourish. She lands behind the interloper.

Several more Ithorians, as well as the best examples of a dozen other species surround the clone. His eyes narrow as he cracks his shoulders.

"Looks like I have multiple partners to dance with. Guess my card is all filled up," he says. His hands move quickly to his side. He brings up a well-used relic of the last war.

The same weapon he had carried throughout the war. A standard clone carbine.

The DC-15S cracks as he brings it up to his shoulder. He can sense his dance card raising weapons.

He doesn't fire at any of the thugs. Instead he fires at a large globe of energy playing its light over the bar. The globe explodes in a burst of light as the energy is unleashed.

Miniature comets of fire streak around the room, scattering thugs and patrons alike. He falls to his knees as he senses fingers tightening on triggers and vibroblade grips. Screams erupt as the more innocent of the patrons head for the exits.

Most of them between Drop and his attackers. 

Between Drop and Talle, as well. 

Drop curses as he tries to get to the little girl. He catches a glimpse of her looking at him, unperturbed as legs block his vision of her. He fires another round into the ceiling.

The noise and light of his blaster only serve to increase the panic. He starts to shove his way forward to his daughter. He is able to see a tall figure lean down to her through the horde of escaping revelers. He is pushed back as two Hutts slither into his path. When he is able to get past the slugs; he can no longer see the little girl, or the tall figure.

He tries to remember the picture of his mind. A tall figure with blue skin. He starts to lay about him with his blaster. He feels a sharp pain in his shoulder as a Devaronian shoves a vibro-blade into the appendage. He manages to hold onto his weapon and fires it into the blade-happy thug behind him.

More screams erupt as the wave of bodies thin out. Most of the bar's denizens have made it to one of the exits.

Drop turns. Only a few of his initial attackers remain; as the others have been trampled or have been carried out by the flood of patrons.

The large ex-trooper doesn't waste time trying to figure out his next move. He opens fire rapidly at the thugs. His initial dance partner is the first to go down; a blaster bolt in his breathing slits.

Drop is hit again by a blaster bolt in his side. He goes down to his knees, but continues to fire. The vision of a little girl, her face lit with a smile only for him plays over and over in his mind. Along with that of a beautiful Chalactan, the small jewel inset into her forehead reflecting the light in her eyes. Eyes staring at him with abandon. With love.

He shakes his head. He realizes that several energy bolts are streaking inward towards his opponents. 

Streaking from behind him. He whirls and sees several human, Twi'lek, and other assorted species firing on his attackers. 

The rotund, slightly sloppy figure in with a worn Tholothian headdress in front is vaguely famliar. "What the hell are you standing there with your thumb in your ass, musclehead? Come on, unless you like the drinks here so much."

As he follows the gunsels out of the bar, he has a memory of collecting credits in a bet. A bet whether his Commander was kriffing their ship's captain. A young ship's captain now dead. The young Jedi, alive, but now reeling from his own fresh losses. He hears a roar from outside, just before he reaches the street. He looks up at the shadow over the avenue.

He smiles. A battered Corellian corvette; its sable outline broken up by a scarlet hull stripe hovers over the street. It lowers its nose to fit in the thoroughfare. His heart leaps as he sees two figures in standing in the ramp.

One, a tall, blue-skinned woman stands with a blaster in her right hand. But it is the being attached to the woman's left hand that causes the grin to widen on his face. A small girl, her eyes searching his clings to the woman.

Drop and his covering thugs jump for the ramp. As the ramp closes, he gets his first good look at his rescuer. She looks him up and down. She nods, as if she likes what she sees. 

At least for the moment. She returns the blaster to her cross draw holster and smiles as Talle drops her hand and runs to fold him into a tight embrace as he kneels down. 

He returns her appraising look. By any stretch of the imagination, the Pantoran would be thought of as beautiful. But it is the strength and self-assurance that bowls him over, rather than her even, striking features.

Even before she speaks, he knows he is dealing with the captain of this little band of reprobates. He winces as he stands up. Pain lances into his shoulder and his side. The young Pantoran touches his shoulder, and looks at the blood on her fingers. Her features soften. She kneels down to Talle, whose eyes are welling with tears at the sight. "Sweetie," the woman says in a sharp Pantoran accent, "I am going to have somebody fix your daddy up. Will you go with Adis here and get something to eat?"

Talle starts to protest. "Go with Fatso, my trooper. He should be able to find you something to eat. He is probably an expert in it." Adis starts to say something, but closes his mouth. Instead, he lifts his hand to scratch his nose with one finger. A very distinctive middle finger.

Drop kisses Talle on the cheek. As Adis and the girl walk out, Drop turns to the woman. "Last time I saw Adis, he was an officer on a Republic frigate. A Republic frigate that I spent a great deal of time on. Last I heard, he was declared dead. Pretty spry and well-fed for a corpse."

"I wouldn't know about that. All I know is he is a damned good gunner and offered to pull your muscle-bound ass out of the fire." She stands and looks at him. "So if you were on a Republic frigate that Adis was on, then you are most probably one of Taliesin Croft's hardheads."

Drop looks down. He doesn't know how far he can go. "Yes. He was my brother." Her eyebrows rise at the past tense. Her own eyes track downward. She places her hand on his cheek. "How do you know him?" he asks.

She grins. "He was my ship's cook during the last year of the war or so. He helped recruit me and some other pirates to fight the Seps." Drop nods. "I knew he was in the Outer Rim. Didn't know what he was doing." A smirk flows over his face. "Can I assume by your obvious beauty and intelligence, that you and he have, ah, _sparred_ at some point in time?"

The Pantoran doesn't miss a beat, as she matches his smirk. "No. I kriffed him silly on many occasions, Sergeant-Major. You might also assume that I tolerated his fumbling attempts to please me and that he survived them." His eyebrows raise at her casual mention of his former rank. _Something he had not mentioned._ He grows serious.

"Forgive me, ma'am," he says, a respectful tone in his voice. _A trooper's tone,_ she thinks. She smiles. "I am Lassa Rhayme, Captain of this vessel, Balor. Fulcrum asked me to come in and pull your nuts from the ringer."

"Come on. We'll talk while my butcher-droid is tending to you. You probably have a lot of questions."

 _That's putting it mildly, darling,_ he thinks as he follows her.

~+~+~+~+~+

Talle watches the droid carefully as he tends to her _Buir's_ wounds. Lassa smiles. She has no doubt that the fierce little girl would dismantle the droid piece by piece if Drop so much as flinched. "So Fulcrum sent you, Captain. How do you know them?"

"You ask a lot of questions for a spy, Drop," she says. "Yeah, but my daughter, who I love more than my very breath is on this ship. That makes me curious. Especially since I was attacked twice in the last rotation. Especially since my 'savior' knew my exact rank in the war. Makes me wonder."

Lassa mulls over this. "Fulcrum gave me a briefing. They are worried about you." The clone notices the pronoun. "They think that your ship was compromised at some point."

Drop's eyes narrow as he considers this. "It's possible, _Buir,"_ Talle says. "They did come up on us pretty quick."

Lassa looks at her in amazement. The girl looks nonplussed. She looks at her father. "Plus, I don't think your bad piloting would've caused us to wind up on Ithor. That was a navicomputer glitch. You just dented my ship."

Lassa Rhayme, Captain of the Free Vessel _Opportunity,_ elected leader of the feared Blood Bone Order of pirates, laughs unabashedly. She holds her arms open. Talle gets up and crawls into her lap. As her laughter tapers off, Lassa's brow furrows over her bronze eyes. "Did it happen after you were contacted by the Stornani?" Drop looks at her sharply. "Jeez, big guy. I have talked to your boss. Besides," she adds, "some of my little birds told me that a giant Mando and his bride were very interested in you and this sweetie. It's why we were there. They said the pair paid off your Ithorian boyfriend."

"Yeah, it did happen like you say, Skipper. Guess it is one more thing I need to look into when I get to Stornan," he says. "Well, I am supposed to get you there, Sarge. I'll throw in the repairs to your ship's computer and getting it to you. Left my navigator and a couple of techs there." She gives him a hooded look and winks at Talle. "The structural damage is all on you."

The two women in the room giggle as Drop rolls his eyes. 

Lassa's comm beeps. She sees the sigil float above it. Her eyes widen as she sees Drop's poleaxed expression. An expression of recognition, joy, and pain flows over his shocked features.

A sigil that is made up of two diamond-like markings adjacent to a pair of parallel angled lines. Markings last seen on the forehead of a young Togruta warrior. A young huntress that he had embraced tightly, just before he left her on a subterranean level on Coruscant, over four years ago.

Lassa's own expression is pained with realization. _He knows._


	2. Tano on Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fundraising for the Rebellion on a slow boat to Etti IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gambling supply house catalog is distinctly not the safest place to learn about cheating devices, beware of catalog men.
> 
> John Scarne, author of _Scarne on Cards_

The warrior watches her opponents with a calm, blank expression. Her normally mobile face, one that she has worked hard to still for this particular type of combat, gives nothing away. Other tells, products of her birth, are just as opaque, as she has controlled the color-shifts and twitches that can provide a window into her mind and her emotions.

She glances down at her weapons then back at her opponent. The small, furry Tynnan stares back at her, his whiskers twitching, his buck teeth worrying his lip. 

The massive Wookiee looks at his weapons with a baleful expression in his ochre eyes. With a snarl, he drops them on the field. He rises. For a moment, the warrior thinks that he is about to attack her. To rip her arms off, as she has heard from legend.

She smiles gently at him. She is remembering other dealings with his people. Her smile takes on a wistful quality. She gives a low rumble; the only word that her vocal range and size, indeed, her vocal chords can produce.

His eyes soften. He bows to her. She returns with an incline of her head. The Wookiee turns and leaves the field.

Her two remaining opponents smirk at her. Their eyes look her up and down in appraisal. The human male, centers below her face in the armor chosen for this particular battle. His warm green eyes move up to her blue gaze with definite interest. Eyes that remind her of another, younger gaze. A gaze who had touched her for a good portion of her former life; as a teacher. A gaze of respect; nothing like this.

Even when he had looked at her as something more, she had always felt his respect. She glances down for a moment. _A gaze now lost to her in the cataclysm._

She moves her eyes to his companion, a beautiful Mirialan. Her heart only leaps slightly with more regret and the pain of memory. Memories of comfort during dark times. Memories of the ultimate betrayal. Her facial tattoos; a catalogue of her life and experiences, bisect her face in a diagonal collection of four rows of small diamonds, from left to right, from her temple to her jawline.

The blue ice chips that are her eyes appraise her as intently as her companion. Eyes that remind her of yet another adversary. Her atypical fiery red hair frames her olive complexion in a slight clash.

The warrior pushes another challenge towards them. Both respond with their own. All three turn to the Tynnan.

He stares at them each in their turn. He finally responds; then adds.

The warrior smiles at him. She checks her weapons again; sends another challenge.

She responds with her face blank again. The Tynnan curses and throws his weapons down.

Her last opponents, the male and female, smile at her. "As much as we are enjoying this little battle, darling, we would both much rather be enjoying you in another way," says the Mirialan, her eyes again playing up and down the warrior's body.

"Well, as soon as I beat you dear," she replies, her voice taking on a warm quality, "I am sure that I could best you on that field, as well."

The human laughs softly. "Beautiful, I think that you will be begging us to defeat you on that field."

"Well, if you are so certain, then show me what you got, dear." she says. 

"Let's make it interesting. Put everything on this," the Mirialan says.

The human shakes his head. He puts his weapons down. The two women look at one another. "I guess it is just you and me, sweetie. Your move."

Ahsoka Tano lets a smile flow over her features. The memories, the pain are moved to the back of her mind.

She pushes the large pile of chips to the center of the table. "All in, 'sweetie."

The Mirialan smiles. She looks at the human and then her own smaller pile. Without a word, he moves his to hers. Ahsoka looks at them. "Community property of marriage, my dear," he says.

Their combined pile is now much larger than hers. "Don't worry, love," the Mirialan says, "I am sure that we can find some way for you to work off your debt."

The Rebel operative known as Fulcrum thinks back to how the hell she got into this particular battle. _I am quite sure that this is all Nola Vorrserrie's fault._

~+~+~+~+~+

".....look, Tano, all you have to do is meet with this disgruntled Authority exec; get the credit chip, and get out. Our little movement is anywhere from five to twenty million richer. That might keep you in whiskey, jerky, and ration paste for a while."

"You certainly know the way to a girl's heart, No-no."

"Yeah, I know. It has done me so well Tano." 

Ahsoka breaks her reverie. "So why this get-up, Nola? Why can't I just meet this crybaby in a bar somewhere?"

"Well, he is traveling to a conference of some sort. On a starliner, the _Etti Eclipse._ We needed to move fast. So Bail used some acquaintances of his to get a beautiful layabout Togruta a first-class cabin on there."

"Must be some acquaintances," Ahsoka muses. "Don't know," comes the reply. "I get the idea he is grooming and vetting them to join us."

"So, again, why this getup? I can find some stuff a bit less fancy to wear."

The eyeroll is felt, as well as seen. "What part of first-class are we not getting, Tano? You are going in as a high-roller. As a matter of fact, your benefactor has gotten you status as a guest of the board of the shipping line. You will want for nothing. Just try not to drink them dry of their Whyren's supply. It is a five day trip."

This time it is the huntress's turn to roll her eyes. "Isn't there someone else that can do this 'fundraising' poodoo? I can think of better ways to spend my time."

"Yeah, Tano. I know that you would rather lightsaber your way in, but this calls for more subtlety." Ahsoka smiles at a memory. "Plus," her handler continues, as she smiles gently, "you could stand to relax a bit. You've been pushing pretty hard lately. This should be easy. The meet takes place in the casino."

Ahsoka's eyebrow markings raise. "Thought that might get your interest. Your status gets you a spot at any table and seed money to play. Since you seem to be the one that keeps most of your clothing when you and I and Sabe´play." She smirks, "Although Queen Breha gives you a run for your money."

Ahsoka nods, a wistful smile on her face. 

"You do have the Force..."

"Nola, I would never...."

"Hush, Tano. We know you would never take advantage of us. But, feel free on this party boat. Most of the people you will be playing are scumbags of some sort. You taught me to always make sure you use their money for your expenses."

Nola takes her hand in hers. "You asked me why you are doing the fundraising. You have built something incredible, Ahsoka Tano. You are not just the comic relief and the pain-in-my-ass of our little club. You, sweetie, _are_ the intelligence section of this thing. But we can't build it without credits. Alderaan is wealthy, but she doesn't have an endless supply. Plus, Bail does want to maintain the standard of living for his people, as much as possible and for as long as possible. With this, and some other deals we have going, we can go a long way towards that."

Fulcrum squeezes her hand. "I know, Nola. The Corporate Sector is ripe for picking. There is a lot of scumbag money to be had there." 

"Yeah. It is also in the Outer Rim. They are more tolerant of non-humans there. You can probably blend in rather well." She turns Ahsoka towards the mirror. A stranger looks back at her. Someone other than Ahsoka Tano, ex-Jedi, huntress, and rebel. That rebel is a beautiful young woman in her own right to be sure, but never before has she been so aware of this power.

"Not sure I am all that comfortable showing my face. Even in the anonymity of the Sector," she says. 

She can feel Nola's smirk before she sees it. "Honey, in that get-up, they ain't going to be looking at your facial markings."

 _She has a point._ The warrior examines the dress. Two thin, silvery straps hold up a rich, royal blue bodice.

Barely. 

A narrow band of cloth, covers her chest just enough to keep her from violating Alderaani decency laws. Below her breasts, the bodice ends with her taut belly exposed in a large, diamond-shaped opening. The base of the diamond dips down below her waist. A hint of her camouflage markings peek out. The gown flows downward with a high slit on each side of her legs giving her enough ability to move in the tight skirt.

She turns around. Even though her people have no fear of their bodies, nor no fear of sharing them, she does feel exposed as she looks at the back. The silver straps only hold up two pieces of cloth along the sides. Her back is bare, with the gown again dipping below her waist. A bit of cleft is exposed at the top of her rear.

She nods at her reflection. Her strong arms are encased in thin gold bands. A headdress of gold and blue, matching her lekku partially covers her forehead markings. A small veil hangs from one side of the adornment, if she needs it.

"I would be more comfortable in my hunting clothes," she says. The smirk returns to the Naboo's features. "Who says you aren't in them, now, Tano?" she says. They both share a brief laugh.

She brings the warrior's hands up to her lips. "Relax, Fulcrum. Have a little fun." Her eyes turn sad. "Ahsoka, please try to take your mind off of things. I know you have been feeling your deaths a lot more since we came back from Delan. Don't know what happened there for you, but take some time when you aren't trying to steal millions of credits, to mourn. Or to enjoy yourself."

She doesn't see the play of emotions over the young Togruta's face. The sensation in her mind of bright colors that she had been overwhelmed with over six months ago flash to the front of her Force sense.

As then, she surrounds it and suppresses it. It remains as only a spark.

Her own Smirk flows to her features. "This will be easy, Fulcrum. Trust me," the fixer says.

_She just had to fucking say that, didn't she?_

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka watches the Mirialan woman. The huntress's blue eyes betray nothing. She looks at her cards. A respectable hand, if not one that could blow anyone's door off. She detects a quick glance and tiny smile between the couple. _Something._

She opens herself to the Force, just enough for a quick scan of the energy between the two. She closes it off. In spite of Nola's permission to combat the multitude of scumbags on the ship, she prefers not to use the Force for deceit.

 _Unless someone is deceiving her_. She spares a quick glance between the two; the Tynnan who has remained to watch.

She looks down at the table. She smiles as she sees it. She recalls a long ago lesson from Fives and Rex in their interminable downtime hands of sabacc.

_There are many things you have to be aware of when playing sabacc and trying to detect cheaters, Commander._

The silver cigarette case lying near the dealer. Placed where every card has to pass over. She had not seen either of them take anything from it. 

Nothing could mar the shiny surface. 

One of them knew every card in her hand. _Guess they know what they have,_ she thinks. 

She smiles her most charming smile at them. _Well, at least one without the teeth showing._ She nods at the case. "Could I trouble a gentleman for a smoke?" she asks. She runs the tip of her tongue over her lips. Just the tip.

Ahsoka notices both of them focused on her lips. She sends a quick suggestion through the Force. Two, actually. 

One, a suggestion of an Idiot's Array reflected in a silver case. The other of a vision of the three of them engaged in certain-after game activities of a _horizontal_ nature.

The human picks up his case and opens it. She takes the cigarette; hoping her sabacc face is hiding her distaste. The Mirialan woman is not as far gone as her husband is. She shoots daggers at him for marring the polished surface. She is soon fascinated by Ahsoka rolling the cylinder of mild spice over her lips. 

The Mirialan manages to pull an igniter out and light Ahsoka's smoke. She calls on the Force for extra stamina to keep from puking in the pot or coughing her lungs into it.

As the case is replaced, the Mirialan with the cards shakes her head. Ahsoka allows herself a predatory smile. The woman looks at her partner. Ahsoka can see the panic reflected in her ice-blue eyes. The rows of tattoos crinkle in confusion.

Her shoulders slump in the dark gown. She throws her hand down. "Looks like you are too rich for my blood, dear," she says.

Her husband's eyes flash with anger. He rises, is about to say something, when their opponent's eyes glance pointedly at the silver case. The anger is replaced with what passes for a charming smile. "Very well played, my dear. Well played indeed."

He jerks his head at his wife. They both nod at the remaining players. Ahsoka puts out the spice-stick as fast as she can. She takes a deep draft of her drink; then orders another to kill her taste buds of the smoke. She looks at the pile of credits that the dealer has pushed towards her. _Not that I am a financial expert like Nola or Bail, but this might qualify as a shit-load of money for the resistance._

"Congratulations, young one. Very well done. If I had won, I could easily get out of this dead-end situation I am in," the Tynnan says, his whiskers twitching.

She focuses on his last words. She cannot believe that she has just heard her contact phrase from someone who has been playing sabacc at her elbow for six hours.

"Yes, but would you really be happy not working?" she replies, as she had been instructed. "Very much so, my dear." He looks at her as intently as he can with the myopic vision of his species. "Meet me in the music lounge in fifteen minutes. I'll retrieve the data that you need."

Ahsoka waits on the pit boss to return with her own credit chip with her winnings. As she places her thumb print with its doctored pattern on the receipt, she glances at the number. _High end of five digits there. Maybe enough to buy a small, used freighter for conversion._

It never enters her mind as to what the credits could buy herself.

She finishes her drink and rises. Her step is brisk and assured as she moves away from the field of battle.

~+~+~+~+~+

A pair of eyes has been watching the byplay between the combatants for the entire time. The owner of the eyes gives a satisfied nod at the outcome. 

The watcher's gaze follows the winner as she walks to the exit of the casino. She smiles at a memory of the past. 

The watcher shakes her head and drains her wine. She sets the glass down and follows at a discreet distance.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka breathes steadily as she walks up to the bar. The weight of the credit chip is a powerful reminder of her victory.

_Not that she is competitive or anything._

She is about to order when a familiar presence walks up to her. She turns and faces her opponent from the table. The Mirialan smiles, holds her hand that is not encumbered by a large drink up, palm outward. "Just wanted to congratulate you, beautiful, on your victory. I'd like to buy you a drink, to let you know that there are no hard feelings."

Ahsoka hesitates for a moment. Her Force sense has been working overtime to negate the effects of the six hours of drinking fine whiskey and the final spice-stick just before her victory.

She looks at the woman, then at her chronometer. "You twisted my arm, dear," she says. The woman smiles; extends her hand. "I'm Leve Stane, my dear. The handsome guy that you also beat the pants off is my husband, Jaze Stane."

Ahsoka takes the proffered hand. She smiles, as she feels a warm finger caress her wrist. "Jana Roshti," she says. She sends a silent apology for her name choices. One, to a woman now dead, a young naval officer who had taught her much about being accepted by her new master in a one hour conversation over hot chocolate. The other, the Governor of a colony of Togruta, who had taught her about bravery in the face of adversity.

The woman points at her drink to the server droid. Ordinarily, Ahsoka is not one for iced drinks with umbrellas in them, but she detects the smell of Corellian whiskey in this one. She takes a moment to look at her former opponent. 

Leve is clad in a version of the demure black attire that she had seen many Mirialan women wear. She smiles to herself at memories of removing such attire. She shakes her head as grief threatens to swell.

 _Definitely a version._ The clothing mimics the attire except for the deep vee that spreads from the woman's slender collarbones to a point well below her waist.

Ahsoka's eyes track upward, just in time to catch Leve's eyes track upward again from her own dress. They smile at one another. _Easy, Tano. Just because it's been awhile._

"I have engaged a privacy alcove, Jana. Would you care to join me and we can...talk?"

The young ex-Jedi hesitates. At this particular moment, she has a vision of a tiny Mace Windu on her shoulder, with narrowed eyes and arms folded. Her mental self shoves him off of her shoulder, as if off of a cliff.

She takes the woman's arm in hers and lets her lead her to the back of the lounge. _I'm a big girl, Mace,"_ she thinks. _Besides, if I play it right, I can do some recruiting. Might could use a couple of cardsharps and cheats on our side._

She hears another voice in her head. A voice with a snarky, neutral Naboo inflection. _Yeah, right, Tano. Is that what they are calling it these days?_

Like the Mace-self, she sends the Nola-self off of a convenient cliff.

As they make their way back to the darkened alcoves, her hearing picks up moans and whispers from other alcoves, leaving no doubt as to what the 'privacy alcoves' were for. 

_They ain't for meditation or studying, unless it's the kind that Taliesin Croft did a great deal of._

Ahsoka follows Leve into a small room with a partitioned door and a large couch. She makes to sit down, but the Mirialan takes her by the shoulders.

Leve puts her hand on her cheek. Her touch lingers as her ice-blue eyes look into Ahsoka's slightly darker gaze. After a moment, the woman trails her fingernails down the Togruta's exposed skin. She lingers at her chest. Ahsoka's breathing increases. She moves and touches the Mirialan's lips with hers. She tries to concentrate as Stane's fingers trace all the way down to the base of the diamond on her gown.

Ahsoka's eyes widen as the index finger dips below the garment's waistline. She whispers between gasps to the Mirialan, "What about your husband?"

Just as soon as she says it, her Force-sense gives a clarion warning in her head. She hears a click and a cold metal object against her head, between the rear lek and the right.

"Ordinarily, he would be in here with you, taking that gown off. But since he has discovered that you are a thief and a spy, he thinks he'll just forgo that pleasure," Jaze Stane says.

He jerks her around. Her hands start to come up, but she realizes that Leve has already placed binders around them. He produces scandocs with the seal of the Authority Security Police. An agency that has already gained a reputation for brutal efficiency - one that rivals any of the Empire's security organs.

"Jana Roshti, if that is your real name, you are under arrest for espionage against the Corporate Sector Authority, as well as theft of Authority and Imperial funds."

She decides to go with the indignant protest. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Do you have any idea who I am? I am a guest of Papanoida Entertainment Lines..."

"Save, it darling. We have the sworn testimony of an Authority executive who said that you tried to get the codes from him. Codes for an account that has substantial sums of transfers from the Imperial treasury to the Authority."

_That little bastard...._

"We have been tracking attempts to gain access to the funds. We decided to set up a sting. And look what we caught."

Ahsoka digests this. _Somebody else was trying to access the money. We hadn't tried to slice it._

She curses to herself as she realizes she was the patsy. She lets herself be led from the alcove. The two Espos hide the blaster, as well as the cuffs as they lead her through the bar and into a corridor. There are too many people to break free just yet; too many that could get hurt, as well as too many that could see how she breaks free.

She notices that a camera droid has joined the little procession. "So, is there any accommodation that we could come to? I think that I have piqued your interest, plus there is a credit chip with a large sum on it in my top." She looks suggestively at the male officer's groin. 

"As much as we would love to take you somewhere and enjoy your charms, you have another appointment," he says.

"Don't worry, darling," Leve says, "I have already felt the credit chip as I was making my way southward. We will confiscate it in due time."

Ahsoka falls silent. She tries to figure out where they are taking her.

They stop in front of a hatch with warning signs on it. "So you have a ship, to take me somewhere?" she asks casually.

"No, darling, I'm afraid not. You see, when you tried to steal money from that account, you set a series of unfortunate events in motion. That particular account was flagged, as it deals with Imperial and Authority security," Jaze says. "That designation empowers us and requires us to summarily execute anyone who attempts unauthorized access."

_Well, that's a new twist._

"Now wait a minute, where is this so-called executive that said this about me? I have the right to face my accuser...."

"He has already left the ship. He had more pressing work to do. He recorded a statement."

At that, he palms the door open and shoves Ahsoka through it. 

Into an airlock. 

She turns. In one swift movement, the woman forces her to her knees. "Don't worry, darling. I've been told that spacing is a very painful death. Your lungs will take a few seconds to explode, as well as your blood will take a second to boil. That can be an eternity. We are not cruel. We will end you before we open the outer door."

At that she places the muzzle of her blaster against Ahsoka's forehead markings. 

Ahsoka closes her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homage to a misspent youth reading Ian Fleming's _Moonraker_. The cheating method is as described in the novel. It is referred to as the 'Shiner' in _Scarne on Cards._
> 
> James Bond didn't have the Force to combat it.
> 
> Believe it or not, _Scarne on Cards_ was in my high school library.
> 
> Enjoy!


	3. Mandalorian Discourse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A spy learns that seduction as a recruiting tool might not work like it does in the holovids. Elsewhere, a giant arrives on a world. He learns that he is only partially welcome.

Ahsoka Tano closes her eyes.

She doesn't close them to make her peace with the universe and the Force, as a beautiful Mirialan is apparently about to be the death of her, once again.

She closes them to concentrate on touching the mystical energy field that is the source of her power.

She closes them to live.

Ahsoka first sees the blaster against her head as she kneels on the deck of the airlock. A small, compact Blastech model favored by undercover and plainclothes cops the galaxy over. Most of these weapons are similarly built, so it doesn't take much time to find the actuator pin.

To find it and snap it. Next, she concentrates on the camera droid. She doesn't know the mechanism, but she doesn't need to.

The mystical energy field slams it to the deck.

Both Espos turn towards the sound. She considers her options.

There is no time for a mind trick. These two don't seem to be examples of weak-mindedness, anyway.

She considers her options. Shoving them away might be hard. They will still be able to identify her.

With a heavy heart, she considers their throats. She sees herself lifting them and choking them until death claimed them.

 _Not today,_ she thinks. She hears a click. She opens her eyes and sees the woman looking at her blaster and trying to pull a trigger. She sees the man - Jaze roll her eyes and push his wife aside. He pulls his own blaster. It mocks him with an empty click, as well.

The Mirialan cuts him with her smirk. "I guess I will have to do it the old fashioned way." She reaches under her skirt and pulls a large blade. She places her hand on Ahsoka's forehead and pushes it back, baring her throat. The knife pulls closer to her throat. She touches the Force. 

The words form in her mind. The last ditch. _Stab yourself._ She opens her mouth.

"There you are, my darling," comes a melodic voice with the sharp vowels of a Pantoran accent. "I cannot leave you on your own for five minutes."

A familiar voice, from the depths of memory. The memory of a young Padawan and a slightly older Senator infiltrating a Trade Federation battleship. To find the kidnapped daughter of the leader of the Senator's world. To prevent another world from falling to the Separatists.

She smiles as she opens her eyes. Riyo Chuchi stands there, her eyes fierce at the Stanes. The bronze eyes, reminiscent of another who Ahsoka holds dear, soften for a moment as she glances at the ex-Jedi. Several very large examples of starliner crewman hold blasters on the pair of Espos.

"Stand aside, Miss," Jaze Stane says, "this is Authority business."

"How is it Authority business to murder a young woman in an airlock?" Riyo says. Ahsoka closes her eyes. _Keep 'em occupied, Riyo. Just a little bit longer._

"Never you mind, young woman," Leve says in a sharp tone. "Run along and take your playmates. Let the grown-ups do their job."

For a moment, Ahsoka stops trying to concentrate. She gives a trademarked expression, that on the whole, is not exactly appropriate for her situation, seeing that she is still kneeling bound in an airlock with a very sharp blade centimeters away from the main artery in her neck.

Jaze sees her Smirk; raises an eyebrow. _This is going to be fun,_ Ahsoka thinks, as she feels the confidence flowing from her friend.

_At least I hope she is still a friend. She was a member of the court at my trial._

"You might want to rethink your condescension, Officer. This 'young woman' is a member of the Imperial Senate, as well as the vice-chair of the oversight board for the Corporate Sector Authority. I have been investigating why Imperial funds to the Authority have suddenly become vulnerable. Imagine my surprise when I discovered this little unauthorized sting operation has put the funds in jeopardy," she says, steel flowing into her voice.

Leve starts to speak, but Jaze shakes his head at her. _Well, we just identified the brains of the operation,_ Ahsoka thinks. As everyone's attention is elsewhere, she stands. A brief thought and the binders open.

"This was an authorized operation by Assistant Deputy Administrator Odumin..," Jaze starts. 

"Spare me, Officer. Odumin didn't have the juice to authorize this risk. In addition, this is a Pantoran-flagged vessel. You have no jurisdiction here."

Leve's anger overflows. "That is where you are wrong, _Senator,_ " she spits. "We are in the Corporate Sector. We have the ultimate jurisdiction, no matter who owns the vessel."

A fairly good impression of a predator's smile crosses the Senator's beautiful features. "That is where _you_ are wrong, darling. We are in Imperial space. We had to cross back in when there was a hyperspace anomaly in the route." The smile vanishes. "You especially don't have the authority to murder my wife in cold blood."

_Wait, what?_

Two sets of eyebrows and one of eyebrow markings rise. The markings quickly fall. "Your wife?" the Mirialan sneers, "She was about three seconds from letting me finger her in public."

"Yes, well, she will take a shower when she gets back to our quarters," Riyo says, venom dripping from her voice. "She is also a part of my investigation. Once I knew I had three idiots on board risking a substantial amount of Imperial funding for a promotion, I could use her substantial skill to expose the idiocy."

Jaze looks at her. "She doesn't bear any marriage marks,"he says. "I know a thing or two about Pantoran tattoo rituals."

"Not that you can see. If you look closely, using your crack investigative skills," she says, ignoring the angry look from the human officer, "you might see that she isn't Pantoran. We mark our bonding with other adornments. Which reminds me, Jana, darling. I think we can put this back on." She pulls a small gold circular object from the pocket of her gown. "No place to hang it on that headdress. Guess we'll do what the humans do." At that, she walks over to Ahsoka and takes her left hand. Ahsoka nonchalantly hands the binders to Leve with a Smirk.

The Mirialan's anger is palpable. 

And ignored.

Riyo gently slides the ring on Ahsoka's third finger. She stands on her tiptoes. She and Ahsoka's lips meld as if they had been doing this for years. Ahsoka's eyes remain locked on Riyo until they finally break the kiss.

The Senator turns, flustered, as if noticing the two officers for the first time. "Get out of my sight," she says, her voice rising. "You might wonder why Odumin left in such a hurry. He has been recalled to Corporate for his part in this. You will surrender your weapons to the Captain. I am revoking your warrants for the time being." Both start to protest. She holds an elegantly manicured hand up. "I have that power. I also have, as the vice chair for Security this term, the power to review your actions." She steps up to both as the armed crewman surround them.

"I will tell you that Pantoran law states that if people are sentenced to death for murder, the family of the victim can carry out the sentence if they wish. I don't believe in vengeance, but I would have gladly thrown the switches on the auto-garrote so that I could watch you both strangle to death, if you had killed my wife." She jerks her head to the guards, who usher the pair away.

Ahsoka is about to speak, but the Senator touches her lips with her fingers. She takes Ahsoka's hand in hers. They start to walk away, but Ahsoka pauses. She punches the door control panel.

The inner hatch of the airlock closes. The shattered panel sparks and hisses as the pair walk away.

~+~+~+~+~+

They walk in silence to Riyo's cabin; each with a million thoughts rushing through their minds. They come to the ornate door marked "Director's Stateroom." Riyo palms the door and they walk through.

They make two steps beyond the closing door before Riyo is clinging tightly to Ahsoka. Ahsoka folds her into her arms after only a second. She can feel the tears marking her bare skin. The two women hold one another tightly.

Finally Riyo breaks away, but still holds her. She looks into Ahsoka's eyes. "When Bail asked me to get someone first-class accommodations on this ship; I didn't know who it was," she says. "Then I saw the description of a Togruta female. I didn't dare hope that my dear friend had survived the slaughter of the Jedi."

Ahsoka gently brushes the tears from the Senator's eyes. "When I heard your voice, Riyo, I knew everything would be alright. Although," she says with a Smirk, "I had the situation well in hand."

Riyo rolls her eyes. "Yeah. It looked like it, dear."

She pulls Ahsoka deeper into the ornate, large cabin, over to a comfortable couch. Ahsoka puts her hand on Riyo's shoulder. "Have you got a robe or something, that I can change into? I really want to get out of this thing." Riyo smiles and nods, "As much as I am enjoying the view, I can help. I took the liberty of having your things moved in here. You can change, into something of you own, or," she looks hopeful. "I have some more comfortable clothes that might fit you. You've grown a bit since I last saw you. I haven't, but they might work." Ahsoka thinks about this for a second. "Sounds good, Riyo."

Riyo goes into the bedroom and finds the clothing. She returns and hands the bundle to Ahsoka. Ahsoka takes the bundle and makes to go into the cabin to change. She looks at Riyo. Without a word, she puts the bundle down and turns around. Riyo reaches down and pulls the closure down from well below the base of her spine. Ahsoka closes her eyes as she feels the Senator's hands over her ass. She pulls the straps down and lets the garment pool at her feet. She turns around and pulls the shorts and tank top combination on. Except for a slight gap between shorts and top, they fit. She sits and allows herself to relax. _Well, most of her._ Her breathing rate reacts to Riyo's searching gaze at her; the Pantoran's own increased breathing.

The Senator breaks her reverie. She turns to a decanter of a green liquid and pours herself a glass. She downs it and refills it. She goes to pour Ahsoka a glass. The warrior stills her hand. "Not that I wouldn't appreciate some fine brandy, Riyo," she says quietly, "but I have drank more in the last six hours than I have in the last six months. I am really dehydrated and my mouth tastes like a bantha paddock from that damned spice-stick. Could I just have some cold water?"

Riyo smiles and walks over to the cooler. She pulls out a decanter of water and sets it near the brandy. She pours Ahsoka a large tumbler.

Three tumblers-full, later, they sit on the couch. They look each other, neither able to speak.

Riyo takes a deep breath and dives in. "I also was hoping against hope, that if my friend was alive, that she could ever forgive me," she whispers.

Ahsoka takes her hand in hers, in an easy grip. She looks down. "I have moved on from my anger, Riyo. I have forgiven all involved, with the exceptions of Palpatine and Tarkin. Plus a couple of the more bloodthirsty, holocam-hogging Senators." She looks up. "I am also a tiny bit less angry at most of the Jedi Council, for putting me in that situation in the first place."

She closes her eyes. "They have paid a heavy price, all of them, for their stubborn adherence and inability to see....," she whispers, breaking off. "I miss them," she finishes simply.

"Ahsoka, there were members of the Senate who fought for at least a lesser penalty. Bail, Mon - they were fighting against the death penalty for a minor. But Tarkin convinced Palpatine that you were an adult in the eyes of your world, simply because of those damned teeth on your head, plus what you had pulled off when you had the misfortune of rescuing his useless ass. I...."

She stops as a two sienna fingers touch her lips. "No, Riyo. It is in the past. Tell me what you have been up to. How did you get involved in this?"

Riyo takes a sip of her brandy. "Well, I am not a member of Bail's little club. I was a part of the Committee of 2000," referring to the movement before the Republic to check Palpatine's power grabs, "but after the Republic fell, Pantora pulled away. Our Chairman began to pull a little closer to the Imperial circle. That made a lot of people suspicious of us. Of me."

"The thing that hurt most was that I was looking for ways to combat the excesses. I needed something, something other than trying to keep my Senate seat and avoiding the marriage offers from the Chairman for his son."

"Why were you having to fight to keep your seat?" Ahsoka asks. "The Chairman likes me," Riyo replies, "but I think he wanted his other daughter to have it. He already has one in the Senate for the Wroonians - they are our close cousins, but I think he felt like he could control both worlds."

"So what about this?" the warrior asks, waving her hand in the direction of the airlock. Riyo takes a sip of her brandy. She sets it down and pulls closer to Ahsoka. Ahsoka leans into her. "Well, the other thing that I do with my time, is join committees, boards, non-profits - stuff like that. They put me on the oversight board for the Authority. An employee of mine found the money being funneled from the Imperial treasury. I thought that it might be good to trace it, discreetly. Found huge sums. This account is a drop in the bucket. It is apparently not being touched, so it must be hidden."

"Dammit, Riyo, you could get hurt...," Ahsoka angrily exclaims. Riyo touches her cheek. "Don't worry, Ahsoka. I took every precaution. My employee, uh, has certain skills. She is probably one of the best at ferreting out information and not being traced."

_Meaning she is a slicer._

She nods absently. Riyo continues. "I knew I couldn't bring it to the attention of the Senate. I would wind up floating in a canal with a hole in my head." She looks down.

"I decided it was time to do something. I was going to try to steal it, but it was a bit hard to hack into, even with Ano's skill. I kind of sent a little anonymous bird to Bail; just a float. Next thing I know he is asking me for a cabin for a beautiful Togruta named Jana Roshti."

"Well, I guess that answers who was trying to hack in, that one of the terrible two mentioned," Ahsoka muses. "I think we were a little quick in trying to contact the 'disgruntled employee."

"There may still be a chance, Ahsoka. I am fairly certain that those two idiots have the access codes for the money...."

"No, Riyo. You need to let us handle it. I appreciate what you have done, but it may be too risky even for me." Riyo starts to protest, but falls silent. Something tells Ahsoka that she will probably try anyway. She blushes for a moment as she thinks back to her attempt to get the funds. "I am not exactly going to be able to kriff it out of them, after this."

"So what was all that, darling? Watching you in the bar, I thought you and Leve were going to go at it on a table." Ahsoka raises her eyebrows at the mention of 'watching.'

She shakes her head. "Proof that I suck at seduction as an intelligence-gathering tool. I should've known. Last time I tried it, there were explosions and large numbers of Imperial marines showing up at inopportune times."

 _Another Mirialan,_ she doesn't say.

Riyo giggles at the image. She rests her head against the warrior's shoulder. "It is so good to see you, Ahsoka. I have missed our talks and lunches from the rare occasions when you were on Coruscant."

"Me, too, Riyo."

The Senator rises up. "So, any others in your life that you can seduce without explosives or Imperials showing up?" she asks nonchalantly. Ahsoka only shows a second of surprise. She shakes her head. "No, not really. There have been a couple of times. I also have a couple of friends that occasionally, when we need each other and are around when there is no crisis, we can give each other that kind of comfort. I have to be picky the way my life goes. Plus, I have to be able to talk to whoever it is, as well."

She takes a sip of Riyo's brandy. She closes her eyes. "There was one, who could've been more, just before Order 66." She pauses, as if building up courage to dredge the memories. "I ran. He died."

Riyo says nothing, allowing her gather herself. Ahsoka comes back to herself. "Mostly just a lot of meditation over the last few years. Those few moments. Oh, and a lot of taking things into my own hands," she says with an arch look at Riyo.

"Know the feeling, Ahsoka," the Pantoran says. 

"How about you, Riyo? I would've thought you would've had them throwing themselves at your feet." She grins. "Other than Chairman's sons."

"A few. Mostly I have thrown them back." They both laugh. They both set down their glasses and look at each other. 

"Apparently you did find time to marry someone you had never seen," Ahsoka says.

Both she and Riyo smile at one another. "Yeah. Figured that might come in handy if I had to get you out quick. According to the Imperial and Pantoran registries, Jana Roshti and I have been wed for close to five years." She names a date for an anniversary.

Ahsoka touches the ring. She starts to take it off. Riyo closes her hand over it. "Keep it, Ahsoka. Cover might come in handy."

Ahsoka nods. Without warning she reaches over and kisses the Senator gently. Riyo returns the kiss. They both look down.

"So, Jana," Riyo says as a grin splits her face, "how do you feel about actually _consummating_ our marriage?"

Ahsoka looks into her eyes. "I think that Jana would like that very much. I just hope that Ahsoka has time for it. I have a feeling that something is brewing somewhere else that Jana won't be able to deal with," she says, her eyes growing sad for a moment.

Ahsoka puts her water glass down. "Senator, do you think that you might like to get more involved with us?" She doesn't have to explain who the 'us', is. "I think that we could definitely use your skills. Everything is compartmentalized, as far as who knows who, and Bail would require a thorough vetting, even though we both know you."

Riyo is silent for a moment. She takes Ahsoka's hand in hers. When she looks at Ahsoka, her need is palpable. "I think I would like that very much, Ahsoka," she whispers. She kisses Ahsoka on the cheek. Her lips move to the huntress's throat, nipping gently. Her hands move up the warrior's bare arms.

Riyo stands and pulls Ahsoka up with her. They walk into the bedroom. Without a word, Ahsoka strips off her borrowed clothes. They both pull the sheets down. Riyo looks her up and down. "I need to take care of something," she says, pointing to the fresher, "go ahead and get in the bed and get comfortable." Ahsoka nods.

Riyo only takes a few minutes. She strips off her own gown and takes care of other needs. She looks at the sheer nightgown hanging on the back of the door. She shakes her head and walks back into the bedroom.

To the sight of her friend, the young warrior, lying in the bed.

Sound asleep, her mouth slightly open.

Riyo makes a noise, halfway between a sigh and a whimper. She smiles ruefully as she slides into the bed. She pulls close to the warrior and takes her in her arms. She kisses the marked forehead gently.

Her own eyes close.

~+~+~+~+~+

On a newly wealthy world, a very large man in the armor of his people stands next to a smaller woman in the same armor. They watch the entrance to a small restaurant. Behind his helmet, the large man smiles, as another large man, one clad in mismatched armor from his own heritage and a hooded cloak, looks around and then enters the diner.

The woman runs her hand over the armor of the large Mando. The fact that they are clad in full armor, with their faces covered, does not bring a second look from the planet's inhabitants, as this world is filled with their fellow refugees from a chaotic world.

Tommis Wren, not the eldest, but the strongest, in his mind, of the brothers and sisters of Clan Wren, motions to others dressed as he and his wife are. The five take up position closer to the diner.

All of them bear not only the sigil of Clan Wren, but another arcane symbol. _Kyrt'sad._

Death Watch.

He smiles. _It is time._

~+~+~+~+~+

Drop walks into the cafe and sees his objective. A blonde man with familiar green eyes. For a moment, the ex-trooper allows himself to think of the past and his brother who bears those same eyes. He shakes his head and walks over.

A young woman walks over to them, wiping her hands with a towel. As Drop sits, she eases herself into the booth next to the older man. She appraises him with dark eyes.

"Hello, Shysa," he says, deliberately leaving the _beten_ off. Fenn Shysa, last of Clan Shysa, former Protector of Keldabe, and for a time the holder of the highest war title in Mandalorian society, the _Mand'alor,_ takes a sip of his caf.

"Good to see you, Sergeant-Major. I am glad that you survived, when so many of your clan didn't. At least with their minds their own."

Drop nods. "At least one of my brothers did, who I didn't think had," he says. "Not one of my blood, but just as important." Fenn matches his nod. "I was there when his world started again," the brother's uncle says.

"I was there when it died again," Drop says. Fenn looks down, his eyes pensive.

They are both silent. The young woman looks at both of them, as they remember. She places her hand on Fenn's arm. He starts and looks at her. A slow smile comes across his face. "But you didn't come here, nor did I ask you here to talk about lost brothers and nephews. Just know that I have heard that he is living again. Back in the fight."

Drop nods. A slight smile quirks his features. "Fair enough. I need to know what is going on here, _Mand'alor._ I don't know if the people that I sometimes represent can do anything or not, but I will listen. I owe you for that."

The young woman's eyes flash; her dark skin flushes. "Thank you, sir, for your goddamned table scraps. We are so grateful for your notice. Come on, Fenn, we don't need this asshole. Fulcrum can't help us." She starts to get up. Fenn puts his hand on her arms. "Shhh, 'len'ika. Hear the man out. Tell him our situation, the way that only you can."

She young woman looks down, her eyes closed. She sits. "I don't know who to turn to. We have untold wealth in the ground on our moons. Something that is so rare it is only found in gas giants."

The clone nods. "Tibanna gas. Used to channel energy in blasters and hyperdrive. I know, but what does it have to do with the people that I represent?"

She smiles. "We don't know what to do with all of this. Who to trust to not rob us when they help us get it out of the ground. Plus, we have Imperials sniffing around. Or at least Imperial surrogates."

"Those charmers out there in the _beskargam?"_ he asks. Fenn speaks up. "Yeah. Don't know if you noticed, or not, but they wear Death Watch insignia. As well as Clan Wren."

"I didn't, because I don't really give two shits about Mandalorian politics."

"If you saw the giant one, one even bigger than you, that is Tommis. Not too bright, but the meanest one. Even though your brother who now lives, kicked his ass, as well as that of his wife, and three other brothers for the privilege of marrying their younger sister."

"Good to know that someone with as narrow an ass as my General could beat them." The woman smiles. 

"From what I heard, he didn't even use his little mystical friend to do it," Fenn says.

Drop's eyes lose their wistful quality. "So what is your interest here, Shysa? From what I hear, except for the brief marriage, the Shysas and the Wrens ain't exactly on speaking terms. You looking to stake your claim?"

Fenn looks at the young woman. Both sets of eyes, dark and emerald, flash. "I was asked to come here, Null," he says dangerously. "This young lady asked me to come here and help her. I only have a set of _beskargam_ to my name. Kind of like it that way." 

The young woman centers the clone in her gaze. "If you have a problem with who I call in, reject, then you can get your big ass off of my planet."

Drop raises his eyebrows at the sobriquet. "Yes, I know you, Null-13. My uncle spoke of you often." She looks at him and touches his cheek. "My name is Tehlen Skirata."

Drop stares at her as he remembers. Remembers receiving the equivalent of a death sentence when Kal Skirata told him he could not be one of his 'sons.' The other surviving Nulls. 

That death sentence was in place until a hard-headed Jedi Padawan had fought him to a standstill for his insubordination. And then turned him into his right hand.

Tehlen continues to touch his cheek. "Kal knew that you would survive and grow, trooper. He heard the things that you and your Jedi and your brothers did. He knew that he couldn't take one as stubborn and smart as all of the other Nulls put together, with what he had to contend with. He suggested to the longnecks that you be assigned to that motley crew. It was happenstance that Fenn's nephew was assigned as your Jedi."

"You seem to know a lot about me, Tehlen," he says quietly. 

"You know how the _Kalbuir_ is when he gets in his cups. He gets sentimental." She moves her hand from his cheek as the two of them share the laughter. He smiles at her. "I never knew this, Tehlen. Thank you."

"Don't mention it, big guy." 

She sees the smirk form. "Here I thought you were just a shitty waitress who wouldn't bring me a menu."

Both hands hold up a certain one-fingered salute. Fenn takes her hand in his and brings it to his lips with no hesitation.

"So, are you looking to be the Protector, again, Shysa?" Drop asks after a moment. 

"Nope. Job's already taken, musclehead." The Mando points next to him. 

For the first time, Drop realizes that Tehlen is wearing various pieces of lower-body armor under her apron, as well as a weapons belt with a well-worn Westar hanging from it.He looks at her, as she slowly removes a bronze object on a chain from under her bodysuit top.

She is about to say something else, something sarcastic from her look, when the crack of a blaster bolt splits the air of the cafe.

All three dive for cover, as do the rest of the patrons. Shysa manages to pull his helmet on and open fire as more figures in muted-color armor enter the room.

"Well, it seems like you've already made friends, Drop," Tehlen says. "Me? I thought they were here for you," Drop replies, returning fire.

"Come on, this way," Fenn's modulated voice yells. The three of them back out to the rear entrance. 

Tehlen turns and adds her blaster to the noise. She pauses to cover the two men. "Come on, girl," the clone yells. "They are probably after you!"

"Well, I ain't so sure, Tarre," she replies, placing a well-aimed shot between the helmet and armor of the _Kryt'sad._

The thugs prove her wrong when she suddenly becomes the target of several blasters.

Drop roars as she is struck twice, in the chest and side. He pushes forward, his carbine firing in rapid succession. Out of the corner of the eye, he sees Tehlen stagger up and switch her blaster to the other hand to lend support. "Get her the hell out of here, Shysa. Move your ass!" the ex-trooper yells.

A roar of noise reverberates through the diner. He glances back and sees the _Mand'alor_ trigger his jet pack. He grabs Tehlen's collar with one hand and continues to lay down fire with his other.

Drop smirks as he sees the pair launch straight up for the high ceiling. Several crashes are heard as Fenn breaks through and is gone with his burden. _Always knew he had a hard head,_ Drop thinks idly.

A cry is wrenched from his lips as a bolt strikes his left arm. He continues to fire, but goes to his knees. He realizes it was not a blaster bolt, as he sees the dart embedded in his bicep.

His vision starts to gray. He rises and shoots two more of his attackers. 

Cables suddenly find themselves around his shoulders. His waist, his legs. He still stands.

Two more of his attackers go down, before his vision goes black.

The last thing that he sees is a young girl's face, her blue and amber eyes looking at him in sadness. His hand manages to grasp a cylindrical object. He pushes a button on top. A slight tone sounds.

_What the hell did the woman call me?_


	4. Working Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A spy tries to convince a politician to not change careers. Mandalorians fight each for a planet and its wealth.
> 
> It is discovered that slicers rule the universe.

Ahsoka Tano eases towards consciousness and light. A light tickling sensation on her breast moves through to her center. Her eyes open. She smiles as she sees the source of the sensation.

A slightly older Senator lies in the crook of her arm, her mouth near the warrior's chest.

Her slightly open mouth and soft breath moving Ahsoka towards further awakening. The young huntress sighs as she remembers last night.

What didn't happen as she fell asleep. She closes her eyes. _Tano, you're such a dumbass, sometimes. A beautiful Senator wants to rock your universe; you of course reciprocate by falling asleep. Falling asleep after being willing to fall into bed with a couple of Espos. A couple who were about to toss your ass out of an airlock, with a couple of extra holes in you._

 _Dumbass,_ she repeats to herself.

She smiles again. She pulls herself up on one elbow and looks down at Riyo. She gently rolls the Pantoran onto her back. She pauses a moment and gazes at the sleeping face.

A reminder of past friendships; of laughter and conversation over lunch in an airy Coruscant cafe.

Of concentrating on holding the Pantoran in the air with her mind near the overhead of a Neimodian battleship. 

Of warmth and respite in simple conversation. A respite from the darkness. Of connection.

_Is it wrong to want to do this? To make love with a friend? To seize the light, knowing that if she does or doesn't get involved with Bail, we may not be able to do this again?_

She shakes her head. She rolls on top of the Senator. She kisses her gently; moves to her throat. She is about to move lower, when a flashing light from the nightstand yanks her attention back to reality. She is fully prepared to ignore it, to continue her trip southward on Riyo's body, but three and a half years of being Fulcrum stops her. 

She rests her forehead on a smooth blue stomach. "I can't catch a break," she whispers. 

Her expression grows even more serious and all thought of continuing flies away as she sees the symbol and the color in the pattern of lights.

She feels a soft hand move to her cheek. "Go, sweetie," an even softer voice says. "I'm sorry I fell asleep, Riyo," Ahsoka starts. The azure fingers move to her lips. "Hush. You have to do what you have to do. I can feel it in your body; that isn't a normal call."

"No. It isn't. Something has exploded that I knew I was probably going to have to get involved with. We probably should've ignored it in the first place."

She gasps as Riyo moves her mouth to her chest. She yelps as teeth are applied. "I know you, Ahsoka Tano. You and Bail both. I don't know what this is about; don't actually need to know, but I know neither one of you would ignore people in need. So shut it, get up, and get your cute little ass to wherever it is you need to be."

Bronze eyes look into blue. "Make sure you survive. Then maybe we can meet somewhere on some out-of-the-way world and I can have a nooner with my wife, Jana."

Matching smirks flow over orange and blue features. Ahsoka grows serious. "Maybe this is for the best, Riyo. It could be dangerous for us to meet, even if you don't get involved with Bail and the others." Her eyes glisten. "I couldn't bear if anything happened to my friend from before because of me."

Riyo smiles and shakes her head. "Ahsoka, we are friends. I am willing to share the risk with you, for this movement; for even a few stolen moments. You said that you have other friends that you grab these moments with. I have no problem occasionally giving you respite from the fight, whatever form it takes, if you will take it. Plus," she says with a grin, "you have a built-in cover with that ring on your finger."

They are quiet for a moment. Riyo breaks the silence. "I knew you had to go sometime. I had hope that it would be later rather than sooner." She picks up a datapad from her nightstand. "I made arrangements for a ship; so that you can get there quicker."

"Riyo, you didn't have to do that," she says. 

"I know I didn't, but what good is it being a member of the Board of Papanoida Entertainment Lines, if you can't abuse your position for your beautiful wife."

"You may not get it back in the condition that you lent it, dear," Ahsoka says with a Smirk.

"Yeah, I heard about your talent for crashing ships, love." the Senator replies. She squeaks as retribution comes in the form of a relentless feathery touch in a sensitive spot noted earlier.

Ahsoka's eyes fall as she realizes she has to go. She kisses Riyo quickly and swings out of bed. "Need to get a shower, Riyo," she says. She turns and walks to the 'fresher.

As she goes in, Riyo is pensive. She hears the shower start. She comes to a decision. She gets up and follows the warrior into the 'fresher.

Ahsoka turns as Riyo enters the shower. She starts to protest. "It will take a half-hour to get the ship ready. That means we have ten minutes to get each other clean, ten minutes to dress, five minutes to walk to your ship, eight minute preflight and a two minute goodbye."

She moves to the warrior under the water. "That means we have five minutes to burn. I say we use it wisely."

Outside, in the common area, another Pantoran woman rolls her eyes as she tries to concentrate on two separate data streams. A harmony of soft cries floats in from the bedroom. 

Through two doors.

 _Some people apparently have nothing better to do in the world,_ the woman thinks to herself.

~+~+~+~+~+

The True _Mand'alor_ moves silently over the rooftops of the small settlement. Behind him, he can hear more of the Wren soldiers moving through the streets, searching for him. Or at least finishing Drop off. He shakes his head. The clone would be more valuable to them as an offering to open negotiations with the Imperials.

Negotiations that would net both parties a healthy profit; while leaving the Stornani with nothing.

Stornani like the young woman he carries in his arms. As if on cue, Tehlen moans softly. He was not too worried about the arm wound, but the chest wound needed attention immediately.

_Not exactly something that he could find easily, even if this is her world and she is their leader._

He sees another _Gauntlet_ transport disgorge another cargo of assholes on the square. He can see the people of the town watching carefully.

The ship starts to rise into the darkening sky. As it climbs well clear of the buildings, Fenn hears a loud commotion below. A number of townspeople are confronting the Death Watch commandos. 

Shouts of 'Leave us Alone!' 'Go back to _Manda'yaim!'_ 'Stornan for its people!' begin to sound in a rising rumble through the streets.

Fenn's face tightens behind his helmet. He knows what comes next. Especially without organization. These are _Mando'ade,_ but many had never been trained fighters, or had settled here when Satine's New Mandalore had come into being.

Settled here and taken up a Mando's fifth favorite pastime, behind fighting, drinking, making more Mandos, and arguing endlessly; farming.

He hears blasterfire below, as the _Kyr'tsade_ open fire. There are screams, but only sporadic returned fire.

He closes his eyes; debates whether he should intervene. The slight weight of the woman in his arms settles his course. _If anyone can lead these rabble against these shitheads,_ he thinks.

Ruthlessly, he thinks about the opportunity to escape the suppression of dissent is providing he and Tehlen. The Death Watch seem to be distracted enough for him to make his escape.

 _But, to where?_ Fenn had not met any of Tehlen's comrades since he had arrived. Her moans of pain are increasing in frequency as she fights to consciousness.

"Don't move Shysa!" comes a modulated voice from behind him. He curses. _So much for the good people of Stornan distracting them._

He turns and lowers Tehlen to the flat roof. He smiles behind the buy'ce. "Hello, boys. Ready for a dance?"

The cadre leader's bucket nods slightly. "It will be a short one, Shysa. Surrender and we will give the girl a quick death. We'll even forgo any pleasures that we might have taken from her." He can hear the sneer, even with the helmet modulation. "Pity. A Skirata would have been a fun r..."

The rest is lost in six miniature explosions. Six assholes collapse, tiny smoking holes in the center of their helmets. Fenn smiles as he watches the six icons on his HUD turn black instead of red. He lowers the now-empty pair of vambraces. 

He turns slightly as he hears a noise to his left. "Easy, Mando. A rather large clone sent us to pull your nuts from the fire."

He turns. Twelve figures stand in the fading light from fires that have been started in the streets. They are a motley collection of heartbreakers.

Their weapons, however are well-cared for. The apparent leader, a rotund Tholothian, motions for two of the larger ones to move towards Tehlen. They immediately set to work with a medkit for a quick patch.

"Who are you?" Shysa asks, his eyes narrowing behind the bucket. "We are just your friendly neighborhood pirate crew. Our Quartermaster sent us to help the musclehead."

"And who might your Quartermaster be?" he asks. "Need to know, helmethead. She likes her privacy."

Fenn watches as the two pirates tenderly lift Tehlen. He grits his teeth. _I am really fucking over all of this secrecy bullshit. Point me in the direction of who I am supposed to kill._

"Okay, Tubby. I'll play her game, if she will help this young woman. We might want to get out of here. That _Gauntlet_ looks to be getting curious. I doubt even your physique could stop a cannon blast."

His eyebrows raise as the ship in question explodes in flames. "Already taken care of, buckethead," the pirate says. 

A black and red blur screams over the town. Its triumph is short-lived as four more Mando ships move in, like stinging insects to a Rancor. "Yeah, Tubby. Looks like it."

"The name is Adis, asshole. You can call me Guns, if you like."

"Okay, Fats," he says. The gunner says nothing, but the eyeroll can be felt. "Our captain told me that you were kin to Taliesin Croft. I can believe it. Five minutes of knowing you and I am ready to kill you."

Fenn looks down. "I would love to say that I taught him everything he knows. But the part that makes you want to kill him is the Corellian side," he says quietly. 

The pirate nods. "I can understand that, Shysa," he says, his own hint of sadness in his voice. Sadness at the affect of the relative's departure on his captain. A woman who he would die for to keep any pain away.

They both turn and try to figure out how they will get to the large ship currently fighting off Mando annoyances.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka walks out from the bedroom, clad in her customary fighting clothes, with one exception. Riyo looks up from her datapad. She smiles.

The tank top that Riyo had loaned her the night before is visible under the beat-up nerf-leather flight jacket she is pulling on. A pair of well-worn blasters rest under her arms. As she finishes pulling on the jacket, she reaches into her bag.

The young woman pulls out a pair of polished cylinders. Riyo gives a quick intake of breath at the lightsabers. They both appear to be mismatched; unlike Ahsoka's original pair that she had eventually settled on.

The Senator looks into her eyes. "Are those yours, Jana?" she says. The warrior smiles ruefully at her cover name. "No. A couple of years ago, I started quietly collecting lightsabers I ran across. Apparently there is a small black market for them. Haven't been too successful. Only have managed to rescue four. It just seemed like the right thing to do."

"Do you have your own?"

"Yeah. Still putting the finishing touches on them. Getting the right parts, as well as learning to make the ones I need. Lot harder without thousands of years of lightsaber research at my beck and call."

"Why don't you use parts from these others?" Riyo asks. 

Ahsoka shakes her head. "It is not right. At least it doesn't feel right. A couple of these, I get familiar signatures from, like I should know them, or know of them." Her eyes track downward. "May have to, someday. Fugitive ex-Jedi can't be all that picky."

Riyo looks shyly at her. "Do you have yours? I would love to see them." Ahsoka shakes her head. "No. For some reason, something told me not to bring them. To bring these instead. Don't know why. It is strange. Just as these sabers are. Never seen any with this amount of power output before."

She slides the two sabers into two specially-made pockets on the jacket. As she does the door opens. A thin Pantoran woman, slightly younger than Ahsoka, walks in and immediately plops down without invitation in one of the chairs near the couch.

Ahsoka raises her eyebrow markings; turns and looks at Riyo. As Riyo starts to speak, the woman, a pair of red and yellow tattoos bisecting her face, pulls out what looks like a pair of old-fashioned spectacles and places them in front of her eyes. A pair of touchpads are brought out and placed on the armrests of the chair.

"Hello, Ano," Riyo says. 

A muffled 'mmph' issues from the intent face. A face framed by a mop of unruly dark blue hair. 

Ahsoka looks closely at the lenses before the woman's eyes. Data is streaming across one of them, seemingly too rapid for the eye.

Explosions and bright colors stream across the other lens. Explosions from the latest versions for a popular hologame.

Riyo rolls her eyes. "Jana, this is Ano Lessa. She is a very talented member of my household, though her social skills leave a bit to be desired."

A chime comes from Riyo's comm. She looks at the screen and colors slightly. "Ano," she exclaims. "That is none of your business."

A smirk flows over the thin features. "Ano doesn't speak much. In the past year, I have managed to get about three actual spoken words out of her."

"What did she say?" Ahsoka asks. Riyo takes a deep breath. "Nothing really. Just asked if the noises that disturbed her work from the bedroom and made her go elsewhere were worth it."

Ahsoka looks at Riyo. "So, were they?" she asks archly.

Riyo colors again. "Yes," she whispers. She shakes her head. "You should know. Ano is the one who 'officiated' at our marriage."

Ahsoka's comm chimes. She lifts it and reads the text. A slight smile creases her features. 

_Don't hurt her. I know how to make you hurt without lifting a finger more than an inch._

"I don't doubt it, Ano," Ahsoka replies quietly. "Thank you for watching my friend's back."

A tiny smile ghosts over the serious, intent features. For a half-second.

"The two Espos mentioned that someone had sliced the file. Was that you?"

A look at her comm screen at the chime. She Smirks. "You misspelled 'asshole,' dear. I had to ask."

She shows the screen to Riyo. "Seems like we have a couple of players, with varying degrees of skill," the Togruta says.

"Ano, you said that one of the slice attempts was fairly obvious. What are your thoughts?" 

_Obvious to someone of my skills, but not too many other slicers. It might be a false flag, but I am not sure._

Riyo laughs gently. "Probably not obvious to one with humility, either, dear."

 _What does that word mean?_ comes the text.

Ahsoka changes the subject. "What about the other one; the one that seems more talented?"

_I've seen the work before. Very hard to trace. I would've missed it, but I think that they intentionally drop a hint every once in a while. I think they do it just for pure challenge. Still can't trace them._

Riyo's eyes narrow. "So you are admitting that someone is better than you?" she asks. 

_No, twit. I am not. I will beat them._

"That is Senator Twit to you, dear," Riyo says with a smile.

"Ano, don't let your ego get in the way. There is too much at stake here," Ahsoka says quietly.

_Great. Another senior citizen heard from. I know what I am doing, Orange Twit._

"Yeah. You keep thinking that, sweetie. When I am kicking your ass at 'Valiant' which seems to be playing in front of your left eye, you won't be so smug,"

_You play hologames? Not that I think you could beat me, but you might be a tiny bit of a challenge._

"I have been known to kick some ass. Back in the day, when I was a kid." Riyo smiles ruefully at this. _What? Sooo long ago._ The huntress's expression grows sad. "Until it got to be too much like work."

 _Yeah, I like playing these vintage games,_ comes the text.

Riyo snorts at Ahsoka's expression.

Ano raises her visor and looks at Ahsoka. She nods. "Be careful out there, Jana," she says in a low whisper. She returns to her data and game. Both Riyo and Ahsoka's eyes widen.

Riyo eyes tear slightly as she looks at her friend. "I am not one for long goodbyes," she says. "Please be careful. I have already mourned you once. Don't relish doing it again."

The warrior nods. She pulls Riyo into a tight embrace. As they pull apart, Ahsoka looks her in the eye. "I was serious, Riyo. Leave the money alone. We'll figure something out."

"Alright, Ahsoka. I promise."

As the warrior leaves, Ano smirks as she sees Riyo bring her hands from behind her back. Hands clasped in a particular pattern.

A pattern from a childhood on Pantora. Of immunity from breaking promises.

 _Just so you know, Boss. I tagged the codes for the funds with a trace. They are actually still on this ship,_ she texts.

"Where?" Riyo asks idly. 

_They are most probably on a physical datachip._

"Probably with the two psychopaths that Jana dealt with."

_I'll have more in a bit._

Riyo is silent. "Maybe I will go down to the pool. Got a new swimsuit I want to try out. Maybe enjoy some umbrella drinks," she says, after a moment.

Ano looks at her. "Be careful, Riyo. Take your comm and your earpiece," she says. 

_Wow. It must be Ahsoka,_ the Senator thinks. _She may be talked out after today._

"What about you, dear? You weren't exactly forthcoming with Jana, either."

_Whatever do you mean, Senator?_

"You have a 'tell', dear. When you aren't totally truthful. Actually when you are lying like a rug. Your left eye looks away from your game. Spill it, dear."

Her phone is silent for a moment. 

The chime is so agonizingly long to come.

_I know where the other slicer was possibly from. I was able to get a slight ping of a location._

Riyo sits on the arm of the chair.

_Somewhere in the Core. Specifically in the Corellian Sector._

Riyo sighs. _The Five Brothers._

~+~+~+~+~+

Draq' Bel Iblis stalks into the tiny basement room, cluttered with electronic devices. He walks directly over to the worktable where a tiny figure stands on a stool, manipulating bits and bytes of data. 

Phygus Baldrick does something that few people can do and get away with when it comes to the Dragon.

He ignores him.

Baldrick continues to work, his feet tapping to the beat of the music in his ears. 

Draq's eyes shoot daggers at his back. He smirks as his eyes light on a certain control on one of the datapads.

He reaches down and pushes the control to its maximum.

Curses erupt as the troll yanks the earbuds from his ears; earbuds that are suddenly screaming at full volume.

He turns and stares his own thunder at the Dragon.

The old reptile does not exactly shake in his boots. "Thanks, Dragon," Baldrick says dryly. "Don't mention it," is the reply. "You called me here for a reason, I am assuming, turd?"

They stare at each other for several moments. Neither flinching.

Baldrick turns back to his datapad. "As you know, I have been feeling around some of the Imperial financial connections in the Authority. Trying to locate any extra credits lying around for your new social club."

Draq' nods. "Yeah. So?"

"There are a few accounts I have found that have some serious encryption protocols on them."

"Phygus," he says, an edge to his voice. "Boss, this is me," the slicer says. "I am careful and I know my limitations, as little as they are."

The Corellian is silent. "Okay, Phygus. Continue."

"Well, someone else is apparently interested. There are slicing signature hints around the accounts." He grows serious. "I have come across these before. They are very good, but they are definitely leaving some hints."

"Do you think it is something we need to be concerned with?" Draq' asks. "I think so. I know that there is a shitload of money in those things. So much so that even as much money as you can imagine wouldn't be missed from them."

"I don't know. I can imagine a lot," Bel Iblis says.

"I have traced the signal. It is just a hint. Anyone not as good as me probably couldn't trace the signature."

"Well, are you going to keep me waiting, troll?" the Procurator says. "It's mobile. Somewhere in the Corporate Sector."

The Dragon's eyes widen, as if a memory stirs. He immediately pulls out his comm and sends a text.

He looks absently at Baldrick. "Thanks, Touchstone," he says. "Hey, Dragon. I really hope that this slicer is on our side. They are not quite as good as me, but they are close. It would be a waste for that talent to be against us."

Draq' nods. "Noted, Phygus. If it is..." He doesn't finish, but nods and turns away.

He exits the old, stately building and starts to walk back to his office. As he reaches a park, he sees a welcome face.

"Hey, Nola," he says quietly as the tall Naboo approaches. The young woman pulls him into an embrace. "Hey, Dragon," she says. "Got your text. What's up?"

"Think your 'middle manager' may be into some poodoo," he replies as they sit on a bench. She nods at the business reference. A practice started by her boss with the Dragon. "It is a state of mind for them," she says with an eyeroll. "How do you know?"

"Got some info that someone is trying to slice into some rivals' petty cash. Trying to do it from a mobile platform in the Corporate. I remembered the brief discussion with your boss about an op."

"Well, our middle manager has moved on to another project." Her expression darkens. "What?" he asks. 

"I think it might be another party who is trying. A potential member of the board, according to the manager." Her expression grows even more dark. "They were warned to leave it to us, according to the manager."

Draq' digests this. "Damn it," Nola says. "Can't recall her...." She shakes her head. "Well, they may be on their own. From what I understand, this potential member did pull the manager's choobies out of the fire. So they may can fix it themselves."

"Can I help, No-no?" the Corellian asks.

The fixer is thoughtful for a moment. "Do you have anyone that can maybe go keep our 'babe in the woods', from maybe, oh, I don't know, dying on us before we can get them in?" she asks, an edge in her voice.

Draq' features light with a certain expression. A smile that recalls his namesake. "I think maybe I do."

Nola nods. She is still thoughtful. "I hear that CorSec will do background checks. We need to vet our new member. I know it is scut work; we are pretty sure of her, but it needs to be done."

"I have just the current resident of my shit list to do that," he says with a satisfied smile.

Nola smiles as well. She pulls her comm and taps it to Draq's. "Here is the info. Tell Touchstone he might have to interface quickly with this slicer to achieve what we need."

"No worries, Nola," Draq' says. He wraps his arms around her. She is one of the few people that he doesn't have to bend over for. He kisses her cheek. For a moment, she looks at him. "Thanks, Draq'," she says quietly. "Guess I owe you one." 

"No, dear, you never do. Your boss may, but Pold Vorrserrie's daughter never will."

He holds her tighter to his chest as she closes her eyes.

~+~+~+~+~+

Riyo sighs as her body slips into a state of intense relaxation. _You know,_ she thinks, _I could really get used to this kind of work._

_It it wasn't for the threat of imminent and painful demise._

She shakes her head. _Maybe not for three days straight, though._

The Senator from Pantora looks around the pool deck. At this time in the ship's morning, it is almost deserted; as most of the passengers are sleeping off whatever hedonism they had partaken of the night before.

The young woman had played her part to the hilt; spending her days on the pool deck; her nights in the casinos and restaurants. Laughing, drinking, flirting -always staying a bit out of reach. Her partners in flirting could (or would) never tell that they had not gone back to her room for a night of passion.

All the while, the hedonistic joy that she seemed to exhibit was tempered by the apprehensive glances at two other participants in the carnival atmosphere of the pleasure cruise.

Two participants and their secret knowledge. Knowledge of a rich future for an idealistic group of Senators and those who implement their idealism.

Including a beautiful Togruta huntress-warrior, whose well-being is at the forefront of the Right Honorable Senator from Pantora's mind. _My friend._

Riyo lays her head back against the cushion of the lounge-couch. She is in a little-traveled corner of the deck; her body is stretched out on the private couch. Her eyes close. The ship's master-at-arms had told her that since their little set-to, the male half of the Espo team had spent most of his time in their cabin, or in the bar near the main casino.

The female half had apparently had her fill of her partner; had spent most of her time on the pool deck.

Studiously ignoring Riyo Chuchi.

Riyo reaches over to the table without opening her eyes for her drink. She moves her hand along the table, feeling for the frosted glass. She starts as the glass is placed in her hand.

She opens her eyes. Leve Stane, the Mirialan Espo, stands there gazing at her. She lifts one corner of her mouth. 

The rows of small tattoos over the middle of her face gives her an inscrutable look. Riyo pulls the straw of her drink to her mouth to hide her nervousness.

Leve runs her ice-chip eyes over Riyo's body. The very small two-piece swimsuit suddenly feels even smaller.

She runs her own eyes over the officer's body. Her eyes widen as she realizes that the Mirialan is wearing less clothing than she is. A dark wrap circles her hips; a wrap that approximates the color and texture of the gown that she had worn in the casino.

A different look from the last few days.

Riyo's limited experience with Mirialans tells her that this is not characteristic garb for them; especially with the intense modesty.

"Hello, Senator," Stane says. "I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. I would like to see if I can make amends. May I buy you a drink? Perhaps join you on your couch?"

Riyo tries to act nonchalant, as if half-naked women always ask to lay in close proximity to her. She waves a hand at the other side of the couch. "Of course, Officer."

The Mirialan stretches out beside her. Riyo is conscious of the expanse of skin that is suddenly touching hers.

All the way up her body. Leve waves a server droid over. She points at the umbrella drink in Riyo's hand."

As soon as the drinks are brought, Leve lays back. "I am sorry if we were a bit overzealous in the carrying out of our duties. The evidence did point to your wife's involvement in a very serious crime. One that we could've executed her for."

"Is this how you apologize, my dear? If so, I am doubting how well I will respond to it."

The officer's eyes widen at the cold tone. "I am sorry, Senator. I am being clumsy. We were doing our jobs." She takes a sip of her drink, nods approvingly. "I am sure that all of us - your wife, you, me, my husband and partner, are all loyal servants of the Empire or the Authority. Can we put the past behind us?"

Riyo continues to gaze at her. _Okay, Chuchi. This is probably long enough for her to buy that you are forgiving her._

She nods. "Very well, Officer Stane," she says. "Please Senator, call me Leve. I am glad we can put that behind us and perhaps talk about more pleasant things."

The woman shifts on the couch. As she does, her thigh moves closer to Riyo's. Riyo takes a deep breath and increases her own pressure. "You may call me Riyo, Leve."

They lay in silence for a few moments. "So why now, Leve? You have been on this pool deck for three days and tried to avoid eye contact."

The icy eyes soften. She looks down. "Just got the courage to come over to you," she says quietly.

As the woman says it, the modulated voice of a text-to-voice device sounds in the Pantoran's tiny earpiece. _Senator, the code is in two parts. One is near you; the other is somewhere in a cabin on first-class. A-deck. I think that both codes need to be present for it to work._

Riyo looks at the Mirialan. _Not much place she can hide it._ With a start, she notices that Leve has noticed her scrutiny. Without pause, she moves her gaze down to the wrap at the woman's hips. The Espo's eyes narrow. Riyo smiles and slowly moves her tongue to her lips, letting it peek out.

Leve's eyes soften. Riyo can feel the heat of the woman's gaze lingering on her breasts. She forces herself to concentrate. Her eyebrows raise as she sees the tiny shape under the waistband of the woman's wrap. 

Riyo recalls a lesson from her past. A past bodyguard. An out-of-favor general named Rhayme. The two of them idling away the hours until a vote, with the roguish general teaching her less noble pursuits.

_If you are going to lift something from a mark, darlin', you better have a damned good distraction._

"So where is your wife, Riyo?" Leve asks nonchalantly. "She had to leave on business, dear," Riyo replies, holding the woman's gaze again.

Without warning, Leve moves her face closer to the Pantoran. Her lips touch Riyo's. As Riyo returns the kiss, she feels the Mirialan's low voice against her skin. "Pity," the woman says. "It would've been much more fun with four of us, rather than just three."

Riyo can only allow the woman to continue to kiss her. _Is this a good enough distraction, Sorentin?_ she thinks to her past.

 _Now how the hell do I get out of this?_ she thinks to herself.

No answer comes from her past or her present.

~+~+~+~+~+

A watcher gazes at the pair on the lounging couch. A pair of violet eyes take in the scene with a mixture of amusement and appreciation. She can feel the warmth and emotions building from the pair where she lies on another lounging couch.

She downs her drink and pulls out a comm. "Hey, Phygus. Pull your finger out. Contact your slicing buddy. May have to lend a hand here."

She looks at the pair. _Not bad, Senator. You could probably use some pointers, though._ A wistful smile flows across her beautiful features. _Be happy to give you some._

The violet eyes transition to black as she watches. She increases the power of her birthright. She focuses it on the Mirialan in a compact burst.

Dani Faygan smiles with anticipation. She stands. _Time to work on the other one._


	5. The Night Manager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new member of the board is voted on. A fixer gains a new title. A Senator find that she might be better at seduction than she thinks. A giant finds out how unpopular his opinions can be for some. A caretaker doesn't have to prove how good she is at seduction.
> 
> A warrior gets a new job, as he adjusts to changing expectations.

Bail Organa sits at his desk; his daughter in his lap. His eyes are following her artistic endeavors as she carefully stays within the lines on a pattern of a tooka cat. 

His mind, however, is light years away. Specifically, on a distant planet, where his paladin is now rushing to rescue an ally and see if they can salvage anything of the situation there.

A request had come through the usual channels. A request from a group of residents of the small world. Residents who were afraid of possible Imperial interest in their newfound wealth.

Wealth that they had no idea what to do with. Even how to get it out of the ground without losing everything.

He feels Leia sit up as the door begins to open."Nola!" the girl exclaims. She jumps down and runs to the tall young Naboo and leaps into her arms.

 _Wonder where she learned the attack hug from?_ he thinks absently. Nola Vorrserrie's face is marked by a broad smile as she returns the hug and swings the girl around. Giggles and snorts erupt from the the little flyer as she is twirled around. A couple of passes and the fixer pulls the princess tight into her chest.

Her eyes, as they look over the girl's brown braids, are troubled. He nods slightly. Nola crouches down and squeezes the girl again.

Unaccountably, her own mind's eye travels to the Outer Rim and the Corporate Sector, as she thinks of another, slightly older young woman who is known for engulfing her victims in the same type of leaping hug.

"Can I borrow your daddy, sweetie? Just for a few minutes," she says. The toddler's eyes grow thunderous, but she looks at her father. He raises his eyebrow in a silent communication that not even Queen Breha can intercept. She turns back to Nola and nods solemnly. She kisses the Naboo on her cheek. 

Sabe,´ the girl's minder and protector comes into the room. The little girl turns and blows a kiss to her father.

Nola Vorrserrie, fixer extraordinaire and fount of snark, is treated to the sight of Bail Organa, Consort and Viceroy to Queen Breha and Senator of Alderaan, catching the flying kiss in mid-air and planting it on his cheek.

Nola walks over to the couch and chair combination near the fire. Bail joins her and sits. He punches a button on his datapad. A low, just-under-the-hearing-range-of-humans hum activates. He nods at the young woman.

"Just got back from Corellia, Senator," she says. He raises his eyebrow questioningly. "Draq' has agreed to help us with both of our Pantoran problems."

"What is the plan, Nola?" Organa asks. "His best operative should already be on the liner. She will make contact with the Senator in her official position after assessing the situation. The story will be that CorSec has intercepted communications about an assassination plot and get her and her staff member out of there." she says.

"Not too far from the truth," Bail muses. "Based on Ahsoka's quick report, the two Espos don't seem like the shy and forgiving types."

"Yeah, especially to somebody who is sticking her cute little nose into business that she was told to stay out of," Nola says darkly.

Organa nods. "What do you think, Nola? Should we take a chance on Riyo?"

Nola is silent for a moment. She takes a sip of the brandy that the Senator has poured for both of them. She savors it as she thinks about how to answer the question of her boss.

"I think that there are risks and rewards, Senator. Just like any hire," the Naboo says. Bail stares at her. "Come on, Nola. You're splitting the difference. That is a a cop-out." He reaches over and touches her hand. "I pay you for hard answers to hard questions."

"Would this be an appropriate time to ask for a raise?" she says with a familiar smirk.

A slight smile quirks his lips. "Maybe. But answer the question, first."

Nola looks into the fire. She is thinking about a chance that Bail has taken in the past. _Two chances, actually._ One on a lost ex-Jedi. Reeling and running from the fires of Order 66.

The other, a Naboo handmaiden who had lost her queen to assassination.

"I know it sounds like a cop-out, Bail. But Riyo could be an important asset. I think that she has the dedication, the drive. She obviously has skills and overcomes her fears to dive into things."

She takes another sip. "But, like all of us, Senator, she comes with risks. All of us are so dedicated to freeing the galaxy, that we are so willing to take risks. Risks that if they fail could be disastrous. Disastrous for the people we are trying to free. Even more so, disastrous for our loved ones."

Both she and the powerful Senator lapse into silence again. She sees the face of a beautiful Togruta. She sees her lying dead on any of a thousand worlds. 

Bail Organa sees that huntress, but also sees a beautiful Naboo lying dead as well. Both of them trying to prove that they can move past their pain and their histories. Their losses and perceived failures in trying to bring that new freedom and justice to a thousand worlds.

He closes his eyes in his own pain.

"I know, Nola. Believe me, I know," he says quietly. He shakes his morbid thoughts away. He can see that the young woman is doing the same. "I have known Riyo Chuchi for nearly ten years. She was so timid when she started as a Senator." His eyes grow distant as he remembers. "She got over that pretty quick. She stood up to the Chairman of her government when he was ready to massacre the inhabitants of Orto Plutonia. One of the Generals there said she stood up to a massive creature and thrust a spear in the ground to make her point."

He smiles. "She had some other adventures. One, she managed to infiltrate a Trade Federation battleship with our very own Fulcrum, to help rescue her new Chairman's daughters." Nola smiles at this revelation.

"She was a member of the Committee of 2000. She put her name on the document," he continues. He takes a sip of brandy; pauses to savor the taste. "But after the Empire was declared, she drifted out of our orbit. Papanoida is too close to Palpatine. We have intentionally kept our distance."

Nola looks at him. "I have seen some good things she has done for refugees and for people suffering. I think that Papanoida is involved in those things, but he plays his cards close to the chest."

"What does Ahsoka think, Nola?" Organa asks. The Naboo grins. "She said that Riyo's prep and quick thinking saved her from a blaster bolt in her forehead and nice, all-expenses-paid trip out of an airlock." The grin morphs to a smirk - an expression that ex-handmaidens don't usually have in their repertoire. "Apparently they wound up legally married, or at least the Senator and her cover name did."

Bail matches her smirk. "Be sure to schedule a meeting with the Queen for Fulcrum when she gets back. Breha, I am sure, can offer her pointers on the care and feeding of Senators." The twinkle in the Viceroy's eye brightens the room, as much as the fire. "For her cover's legend, of course."

"Of course," Nola smiles. Bail's carefully disciplined features grow wistful. "I know that they were good friends in the war. I used to see them in a little cafe´ on Coruscant. On the rare occasions that Ahsoka was on-planet." His eyes close. "Just two young women enjoying a lunch and conversation. Lots of laughter."

"That all changed, when.....," he whispers. He clinches his teeth. He changes the subject. "I think it was one of Ahsoka's few outlets from the war. I watched them once. Padme´ Amidala had joined them." Nola's eyes tear as she thinks of her distant cousin. Of the example for a contractor's young daughter to accept a life of public service. "Padme´and Riyo weren't close, but they had great respect for each other. Those three young women laughing and talking about nonsensical things, brought a bit of light for me."

They both fall silent as they think of ghosts. Bail looks at Nola. "What do you think? You gave me Ahsoka's thoughts, as well as your own. What is your unvarnished, no-bullshit recommendation for Riyo Chuchi?"

Nola doesn't hesitate. "I say that we bring her in. Especially if she manages to pull off this fundraising that she has evidently started."

Bail nods, his expression decisive. "You'll be happy to know that other share your recommendation. Mon Mothma and Garm Bel Iblis both agree, something that they never do."

Nola's eyeroll can be felt on both worlds. She grows serious. "What about Riyo knowing Ahsoka from before? Do you think this could be a security problem?"

Bail moves the knuckles of his right hand to his chin. He finally shakes his head. "No. Riyo has already proven that she can keep secrets. Hell, she can make a few of her own. We may have to limit their contact, except in cases where Ahsoka can use her cover name."

"So you have made arrangements with the Dragon to do the background? I think it might be a formality, but it needs to be complete."

"I agree," Nola says. "As soon as I get through here, I am returning to Corellia. Draq' has given me authority over his chosen Inspector."

"Anyone I know?" Nola is evasive. _How do I tell him that said Inspector is currently residing squarely at the top of the Dragon's shit list?_

He wisely decides to drop the subject, at her uncomfortable expression.

Bail and Nola rise. "Representative Nola Vorrserrie," he say formally. "I charge you with completing a thorough vetting of Riyo Chuchi." Nola's eyes widen at the ancient phrasing. The formal charge of a liege. She nearly stops breathing at the next words. "Know also, that the Queen has given you a further charge. She intends to name you her Queen's Hand."

 _The Hand of the Queen._ Bail grins at the young woman's stricken expression. The voice of the monarch of Alderaan. 

"The formal investiture may be a good ways away. You will continue as my Representative here when I am in the Senate and in the Senate when I am here, as needed. But you have the authority of the Queen, as of this moment."

He smiles and inclines his head. "Your Grace."

Nola Vorrserrie, failed Naboo handmaiden, at least in her eyes, is barely able to return the bow.

~+~+~+~+~+

The large brother fights towards consciousness. His teeth clinch as a surge of energy, centered on his neck assists him in his fight. His eyes focus on a cropped mass of blonde hair, centered over a pair of meadow-green eyes. _Great,_ he thinks incongruously, _every pain in the ass in my life seems to look out at me from eyes that look like that._

These eyes are a bit different from the others. The ones related to each other. There is no warmth or laughter in these eyes. He realizes that he is hanging from the wall of a small, dirty room.

Suspended not by energy fields, but by old-fashioned chains. A cold draft tells him that the assholes who brought him here have removed his clothing. A pain centered on his left bicep tells him that the dart is still embedded there.  
All of this information is processed through a brain that is swathed in gauze and fog. He looks down at the sensation around his neck. _Ahh, they've taken the time to put a shock collar on me. How thoughtful._

He shakes his head as he tries to send the errant thoughts away. He brings his mind to a point in his past. The point grows into two beloved faces. One of the faces, a beautiful bronze visage with a jewel centered in the forehead, was one of two who had taught him to center his thoughts and feelings. He focuses on that face, as well as that of a smaller one. A more recent one. His mind panics for a moment as it tells him that the older face is becoming more indistinct. 

He focuses on the jewel, as well as the amber and blue gaze of the smaller figure. His mind flows back through the mists of time and space. To lessons in meditation from two Jedi - a brother with those warm green eyes, as well as the love of his short life.

It is brought back by another dose of electrical energy to his neck. He opens his eyes to the blonde woman. She is gazing at him with an expression of absolute malice. He notices that her gaze looks him up and down. "Like what you see, darlin'?" he manages to gasp. "Probably more than you have ever seen, based on who your _riduur_ is." 

His jaw is rocked by a violent blow from his left. A second blow closes his eye on that side. He still manages to focus on the Mando who rivals him in size.

 _If not in brains._ "Don't you worry, clone. She prefers the real thing for her rides, not a cheap imitation of a Mando. Although," Tommis Wren says with a smirk, "I am not averse to her giving you a ride before we eventually kill you, just for comparison. That is how confident I am."

"From what I hear, she might want to try. Anyone who could let a tiny Corellian beat him and her, as well as four of his brothers, for his little sister's hand...."

He gets no further as he feels the rage grow from the massive soldier. Tommis Wren pushes his wife out of the way. "You don't get to talk about her, you son of a bitch," he screams.

"Why not, Wren? He and she were probably the best things to happen to your shitbag family."

"He was weak. If I ever find him, I will kill him. I will kill him as slowly as I am going to eventually kill you. For taking my sister away from us. For corrupting her."

Drop smiles, as blood flows from his mouth. "I am laughing at you, Wren. Go ahead and kill me. Won't change a goddamned thing. The man that you know as King will eventually find you and slaughter you like your Imperial friends did your sister and her child."

Tommis brings his hand up. The young woman gently places hers on the fist. "Shhh, _cyar'ika,"_ she says. "He is trying to goad you to kill him quicker. Go see if we can find the pirate ship. Once we get our hands on his little girl, he'll tell us what we need to know."

Her words have the desired effect. Drop strains against the chains. "You had better leave her out of it, woman," he says. "It will be you who I end first."

Lucre Wren smiles at him as Tommis leaves. She places her hand on the dart in his bicep. Her hands slowly and deliberately grasps the metal. She looks into his eyes. "Now, handsome. Let's discuss who sent you here. There is a certain ISB agent who would love to know."

She twists the dart.

Drop closes his eyes against the pain. He focuses on the royal-blue eyes of Elle Jaquindo, as her face grows more distinct. _Hold on, my love,_ her face in his mind says.

~+~+~+~+~+

The little girl stares at Fenn Shy'sa accusingly. He finds that he cannot meet the sharp gaze. A memory of a gaze that he had occasionally seen staring at him on Kamino, in the waning days of the war. He looks down. When his eyes return to the tiny dynamo, the gaze has softened into another familiar gaze. The look of a young Chalactan Jedi who had learned serenity from her Master.

A woman who Fenn had grown to respect more than any other, except maybe his mother and older sister.

He realizes that Talle is looking beyond him. He turns and looks at the young woman floating in the slightly viscous blue fluid. He can see the wound in her chest and arm knitting as the bacta performs its designed function. Her features are calm as the drugs work in her system. 

A hand touches his shoulder. He turns to look into the bronze eyes of Lassa Rhayme. Eyes filled with concern. "She'll be okay, Fenn," the pirate says. "She is young and strong." A smirk flows across her blue features. "She will soon be up and kicking your ass."

He feels a smaller hand take his. He looks down. Talle looks up at him, with the warm look from her mother continuing on her similar features.

He nods. "I know. Right now, I am worried about what I can do to save her world. Something that is probably more important than my charm and manly physique."

Lassa snorts. He can even feel the young girl's eyeroll. "Damned smartassed Mandos. They are the bane of my existence." She grows serious. "I monitored a transmission on Fulcrum's frequency. He did manage to send a distress call. We may be getting some backup."

Her eyes crinkle in a slight smile. _Serious backup._

Fenn nods. "I don't think that I can wait, Captain." He closes his eyes; opens them, as if he has made a decision. "I am going to Mandalore. I have a few hardasses that I might be able to call on."

Lassa shakes her head. "Do you think that is such a good idea, bringing in more large groups of outsiders? From what I can tell, the Stornani are already skittish with the idea of even you being here, Fenn'ika."

"I know. They are so afraid of losing out on the wealth from the gas, but they don't know what to do with it themselves."

"They might surprise you, _Mand'alor,"_ she says quietly. "That young woman floating in that tank seems like she has got it together. She will figure out what needs to be done," the Pantoran says. _As well as another young woman who is probably on her way here._

"I know. But I think we may need some hard men and women to back her play."

He turns. "I need to steal a ship. Think any of your reprobates can help me?"

"We are pirates, old man. It is what we do."

~+~+~+~+~+

Bryne Covenant flips another datacard into the trash can in the small office. It joins a growing pile that had ricocheted off of the rim. He sighs and takes another sip of his caf.

His fourth cup. In two hours.

With another six to go. He sighs and picks up the next card and inserts it into his datapad. He begins to read. _So many fascinating things to learn about spice-smuggling and human trafficking._

Another sigh is wrenched from his lips. He shakes his head. _And you did want to make your life reading history and archeology reports back in the day. A Consular of some type._

He grows wistful. _Yeah, that was before spending three years as a General in a galactic war, then fighting to stay alive because somebody didn't like what you were born as._

He closes his eyes, as he always does when he goes back in time. He curses. _Come on. Quit wallowing, asshole. You're alive, you have a meaningful job, you have a weird family, you're able to get laid on a regular basis. What more could you want?_

_Maybe to feel like you're making more of a difference?_

Once he had gotten back to Corellia, he had felt alive at the prospect of what Draq' and Dani had told him he would be doing. He had felt like he could make a difference.

Making a difference, maybe. To someone.

 _While slowly dying of boredom._ Endless reports. Analysis of said reports of criminal activity. Guarding the dowager mothers of Draq's friends on the Electoral Council. Or the Privy Council. 

Worse, being loaned out to Shavuot Colum, the Legate-Internal and then to the Marshal to fill in as night Inspector in whatever out-of-the way station in various parts of the Five Brothers needs a slot filled.

Investigating burglaries and robberies. _Crimes Against Property._ Like it says on the door. _Wonder if Maz would let me come back to bartending._

He remembers what had gotten him exiled to the night shift. He had stood in Draq's office enduring a dressing down for deviating from his official assignment as a minder. He had spotted a half-remembered face from a report. 

A very large human in a cheap business suit. He had searched for a name. _Jed Antol._ One of a murderous group of triplets from some backwater hole in the Outer Rim. A group whose oldest brother currently resides in the finest shithole of a correctional facility on Corellia. Currently unable to eat anything more than gruel, due to the fact that he had tried to stab a certain Procurator-Fiscal who had personally apprehended him on a Corellian freighter.

Covenant had remembered the dry prose in the report of a different incident that had drawn his attention. _Assisting in the apprehension of subject Antol, Jed, was Jedi Master Shaak Ti, who had amputated his right hand with a lightsaber, along with the rifle he was aiming at officers._

The case number and description had drawn him back to his past. To a young Naboo handmaiden in training, held in despair by a Separatist warlord. A warlord who had close ties to the Naboo branch of the family.

Covenant's brow furrows as he remembers Draq's anger.

_Goddammit, boy, you managed to unravel six months of surveillance that the OC cops had been doing on him. Trying to see what kind of road he was taken to worm his way back into Corellia._

_Well, was I supposed to stand by while he beat the crap out of some poor soul?_ he had asked.

_No. You were supposed to let the cops handle it. They would have at least been able to arrest him and sweat what he was planning out of him. Now, he is onto the surveillance and we couldn't arrest him cause you had to charge in to play Jedi. Someone who had fuck-all authority to arrest anybody in the Corellian system._

The shouts and curses at one another had erupted nonstop at the reminder thrown at him. A reminder of his past life. In the end, his nominal boss, Dani Faygan had picked up the gold spearpoint-shaped shield from Draq's desk from where he had thrown it at the old man. Her black eyes had dared the Dragon to say anything when she did.

Outside of the Dragon's office,she had put the shield back in his hand and closed hers over his. _Have patience, love,_ she had said. _He has to get used to having family around again. Of letting you do what you were meant to do._

Apparently, he was meant to sort files and learn about the limits of jurisdiction on Rangers.

He looks at the heading on the next report. He curses to himself. _Of course the next file is on the Antols._

His interest is piqued as he reads. Apparently, there are new illegal spice products appearing in the Five Brothers. Some new way of avoiding Corellian and Imperial patrols. Even when there is a patrol ship in the vicinity. The one sample that had been acquired by an informant had identified a unique tagant. A sample of unique potency, that had already killed two dozen Corellian citizens across the Five Brothers. 

His green eyes look over the dry narrative. His eyebrow raises as he spots the pattern.

The narrow escapes seem to take place when one squadron of Imperial revenue cutters were on duty.

As well as one Corellian Ranger vessel.

One ship had given off a brief signature of an Antol-owned vessel before it was masked and flitted away, just out of the net.

His thoughts are interrupted as he feels a presence at the door of his office. He looks up.

A tall, beautiful Naboo stands there, her business suit immaculate. A smirk spreads across her sharp features as she looks at the pile of data cards on the floor. At his sock-clad feet on the desk as he reads. The food wrappers from various vending machines spread over the desk.

"Hey, Hero. How'd you like me to sweep you off of your feet and take you away from all of this?"

~+~+~+~+~+

Riyo Chuchi starts as she feels the woman under her lips give a brief cry and collapse, her body rigid for a moment. _Wow, must've been really keyed up, for that to happen with just a bit of kissing._ She stands and looks down at Leve. The older woman was still breathing, although her respirations were finally slowing down. The Senator grins archly. _Maybe I am just that good._

The young Pantoran doesn't look a gift eopie in the mouth. She looks around quickly. Any spectators that she might have had have lost interest with the completion. She takes a deep breath and runs her hands over the woman's briefly covered middle. She grabs the object she had detected earlier. She nods absently to herself as she confirms that it is a datacard. She tucks it away in her bag.

Her hands detect another, slightly thicker disk in the waistband. She pulls out the plastic roundel and examines it curiously. It color mimics the Espo's skin, down to a similar diamond-shaped pattern across the top. A single switch rests on the top.

A moan escapes the Mirialan's mouth. Riyo tucks the device away in the bag. She turns and leaves the woman lying there peacefully. _Peacefully for now; but not for long, once she discovers the card is gone._

She wonders if her charms can work a second time, on a much tougher audience.

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola watches with amusement as Bryne Covenant devours breakfast at the all-night diner he had suggested. _Must be a regular. His food appeared without him even ordering it._

As the plates are cleared away, and the caf cups are finished, Bryne looks at her, a question in his eyes.

"So what's up, Nola? Why are you buying me breakfast when most politicians are asleep?" he asks, pointedly.

"Got a job for you, handsome. One that I think you will perform admirably," comes the reply.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, I don't work for you." His face grows dark. "Apparently I work for the Marshal of CorSec, rather than who I thought that I did."

"Actually, you should've gotten a notification. A notification that you have been seconded to our Planetary Security Force on your comm or datapad."

"Wouldn't know. I turned the damned things off."

Her own eyes grow dark. "That's nice. What if, oh, I don't know, an actual crime happened?" There is an edge to her voice. 

"I am sure that an actual cop would answer."

"Goddammit, Bryne," she explodes, "I can see how you can get on Draq's shit list so easily. Do you think you are above it all? That you are so fucking great that you don't have to pay your dues like everybody else?" She calms as she sees the few other patrons of the diner looking at them.

"Don't know," he says quietly, not rising to the bait. "Thought that I already had."

She falls silent. She immediately calms; reaches over to place her hand on his cheek. "That was out of line, Bryne, on my part. But nobody more than a select few know what you are, sweetie and what you can do. To everybody else, you're just some upstart who appeared out of nowhere with a fancy title."

"Plus, I don't know if Draq' actually knows what to do with you," she finishes. "You think that he isn't afraid that if you actually use your gifts, the Empire could come down on Corellia?"

Covenant is quiet. "Then why am I here, Nola?" he finally says, finishing his caf.

The server, who Nola had noticed had been very attentive to Covenant, rushes over to fill the cup, bending over with her chest practically in his face, when she does. He smiles at her. The server turns to leave, when Nola holds her cup up. The server rolls her eyes and pours the caf.

Bryne has the good sense to look away with his crooked grin playing on his features. He grows serious. 

"So what is this big job?"

She smiles. "Background check for a prospective board member for a non-profit."

"Awesome," he says, looking down. When he looks up, his eyes are angry. "No thanks."

She sighs. "Bryne, I know that you know that Draq' is starting to be involved in a little, ahh, club that has certain goals. Goals that have to do with the loss of your family." He nods gently, as he stares at her searchingly.

"We need to know that we have good people - people who can keep our secrets. This is part of it."

"We think that you should be a part of this movement," she says quietly. "But you have to start slow, as well. No matter your gifts."

He takes her hands in his. "Don't know if I have it in me to try out for anything anymore, No-no," he says gently. She squeezes his hand back. "Hero, you have to work with me, babe. There are some in the movement who might be afraid of what you are. Of bringing that attention."

"I'll try to keep it in my pants," he says dryly. She rolls her eyes again. "That would be appreciated."

He is silent. She lets him think; to contemplate. "So am I staying here in my little hole to do this?"

"Nope. You'll be coming wth me."

"Where to?"

"Pantora."

He sits up. A slow, knowing smile crosses his mouth. "When do we leave?" he asks.

"Soon as you get a change of underwear."

"Don't wear any."

"Way too much information."

Something different flows over his even features. His green eyes grow warm again. He runs his thumb over the back of her hand. "How long is the trip to Pantora?"

She smiles. "A few hours," she replies. "I guess you'll need something to pass the time."

"I have been told that I need constant stimulation."

"I'm sure. There might be some time for some meditation."

"I was thinking about some gymnastics lessons. I have heard some things about handmaidens."

"Ask Dani. I have references."

Once again, she gets the last word.

~+~+~+~+~+

Jaze Stane stalks down the corridor that their cabin is located on. He shoves a crewmember out of his way. The anger grows as he thinks about the possible loss of his job.

Probably the most stable job he had ever had. Certainly the most, halfway respectable. He remembers his previous occupation as a bounty hunter.

His anger grows as he thinks of how his so-called partner, a Zabrak named Sugi had left him for dead on a forgotten Outer Rim world.

_Of course, he had tried to swindle her out of her fee for helping a bunch of spice-farmers, before they had met._

_Not a bad job change, though._ He still got to shoot people. The difference being, he could do it with almost impunity as an arm of the Corporate Sector Authority.

_A job about to be lost because of a couple of women._

He approaches the door to his cabin. He knew that his wife was not in there. She had been avoiding him since the two women had stifled their ambitions.

The two women that he intends to find and kill. No matter that one is an Imperial Senator.

One of them is probably being taken care of right this moment, in a way that is sure to cause embarrassment to her family and her world.

As he reaches for the door, he notices a warmth suffusing his body. His anger suddenly dissipates. He raises his eyebrows, but smiles with a warm smile that is uncharacteristic for his usual visage.

He palms the door open. 

A beautiful, crimson-skinned woman lies in he and his wife's bed. The sheet pulled up just over her breasts, her bare shoulders drawing his eyes.

A warm smile flows over her face. A smile that is matched in her purple eyes. Jaze's breathing increases in speed. A part of him is concerned about their security.

A very small part. A part that is quickly voted down in his internal monologue.

"Hello, handsome," the woman says in a warm voice. "Leve sent me. Already had some fun with her. She wanted to share." Her smile grows. "She said something about an apology."

He is silent for a moment, but comes to a decision. He walks over to the bed.

She drops the sheet. His mind is able to register that she is wearing a brightly colored dress that leaves her shoulders bare.

It barely registers the Corellian blaster in her hand.

His hand is moving to his belt, just as two azure, concentric rings erupt from the muzzle and fly towards him.

His last thought before consciousness eludes him and he hits the floor is that he really doesn't want to go back to being a bounty hunter.


	6. The Spy Who Came Into the Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night across the galaxy. Boots to the head are delivered.
> 
> The Empire suffers from a tiny cash shortage.

Nola Vorserrie's eyes slowly open, as her hand moves over to the empty bedroll on the deck of the small ship's cockpit. She pulls herself up onto her elbows to a fragrant smell. She realizes that a cup of caf is being waved under her nose. The Naboo looks up at Bryne Covenant and smiles sleepily. She sits up and allows the cover to fall. 

Covenant's eyes track downward, but returns to her eyes as she takes the proffered cup. "Almost there, Last Word. Time to shake it out. Can't be the ace fixer when you are sleeping late."

"Needed to sleep in, Hero. Every time I tried to fall asleep, somebody was poking me with a ridiculous little piece of flesh." She notices his eyes grow distant for a moment, as if remembering something. The moment is fleeting as his grin moves to his eyes. "Wouldn't know. Every time I tried to fall asleep, somebody was grabbing that piece of flesh."

He reaches down and claims her lips with his. They rest their foreheads against each other as they come up for air. "I had a great time, Bryne," she whispers, "but this can't happen very often."

He looks down. "I know. Seems to be our lot in life." He smiles. "There are few I would rather grab the light with than you, Nola."

"I want names," she says with a smirk that makes his eyebrows raise in its familiarity.

Their laughter rises. She realizes that he is clad only in his trousers. She hugs him to her; content for the skin-to-skin contact. Content to remember their shared pain and their deaths.

She pushes him away and slaps him on the ass. "Come on, Jedi-boy. Wash my hair." she says imperiously.

"As you say, Princess."

Her heart clenches at the word that usually comes from another. Another who this warrior mourns.

Another that she knows lives; that she cannot reveal to him.

A revelation that would take some of the pain out of both of their eyes.

But one that was not hers to initiate.

Her thoughts come back to the present as his hand closes over hers and pulls her to her feet. Her hands move to his belt-buckle. As she opens it, she grins. "Take as much time as you need to get to my hair, Inspector."

"Hope we have enough water in the tanks," he replies.

Later, as they stand in the tiny shower, and the light expands under the stream of hot water, as his lips play over her neck and shoulders, the tears flow unseen as she thinks of her loved ones. She silently curses the galaxy that they live in, in which deception is the only way to protect these two.

_Or is it just the easy way out? Is it just to protect me from hurt, if I have to mourn both of them again?_

She has no answer as the water starts to turn cold. She leans back against his warmth.

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola watches Covenant pull on his suit jacket. "You do clean up pretty well, Inspector. You almost look respectable with the suit and short hair." He chuckles. "Not so bad yourself, Representative. Of course, you look like you are wearing a business suit and heels even when you are naked."

He wonders where she picked up that particular Mando gesture. She grows serious. "Bryne, please stick to the plan. Interview the Senator's staff; check out some of her acquaintances, and get out. No blasters or lightsabers, and try not to piss anybody off or break anyone's heart."

He holds his hands out, palm up, in a questioning gesture. "How come everybody thinks that I go around intentionally pissing people off? I was trained a bit in diplomacy, you know."

"Oh, I don't know. It could be your track record. The fact that you are Draq' Bel Iblis's secret weapon for the Five Brothers and within a few months of becoming said weapon, you are exiled to the ass-end of Coronet City on the night shift investigating purse-snatchings. Some secret weapon," she finishes.

"It's not my fault," he responds, his voice rising in pitch. "I can't help it that my uncle is a stubborn asshole who can't accept that someone might be smarter than him."

"Really?" she says with her arms crossed and eyebrow raised. He closes his eyes at the familiarity of the stance. She notices and pulls her arms down to her side and brings her head to the level from its cocked position.

"Okay, I admit it. That sounds kind of stupid," he admits. "Little more than 'kind of,' Hero," she says evenly.

"You can't see what everybody else who knows you both sees," she continues. "Dani; that little shit Baldrick - even the Dragon's fucking admin droid." She takes his face in her hands. "He loves you like his own son. He doesn't want to expend you needlessly, but he doesn't know how to use you. Be patient, love,"

Covenant leans into her hand. He looks down. "So what are you going to be doing, Nola?"

"Meeting Phygus to work on something else, as well as meeting with Papanoida on some things."

His eyebrows raise. "Baldrick is here? Why didn't he travel with us?"

"Would you really want him in here with what we were doing? Plus, I didn't want to have to avoid his comments and grabby hands."

"Point taken. How did he get there?" he asks. "I put him on the shuttle," she says.

"Coach, I hope." 

"Nope, luggage compartment."

His laughter is welcome after the thoughts of pain and grief.

"So how is Dani doing?" Nola says after they catch their breath. He rolls his eyes. "Wouldn't know. She apparently is on a luxury liner in the Corporate Sector," he says. "She is probably breaking hearts right and left, as well as making others' lives happier."

Nola is strangely silent as she realizes he doesn't know what Dani has been sent to do. Of the connection with his own mission.

"Yeah. Hopefully she doesn't wind up married." He raises his eyebrows, curious at that statement.

~+~+~+~+~+

Riyo Chuchi winds her way through the corridors of the liner, to the cabin number that mirrors the small lock-chip in her hand. She matches the elaborate panel next to the door to the number. She pauses and draws a deep breath. She pulls open her pool-wrap, exposing more of her skin. She touches the lock-chip to the lock. 

The Senator puts on her best come-hither look. _Didn't know that I had a come-hither look._ She rolls her eyes before the lock mechanism disengages. _Still don't know that I do._

Riyo smiles and starts to speak. She stops, but her mouth remains open, as she sees the subject of the seduction lying on the floor.

A subject now trussed up like a nuna. Her eyes track to the movement in the room. As they do, an unaccountable warmth flows to her center.

Standing in a floral print dress, is one of the most beautiful women Riyo has ever seen. The crimson-skinned young woman, her purple eyes surveying Riyo with more than a hint of laughter, smiles broadly. Riyo notices that the striking eyes start to grow dark; almost black as she looks Riyo up and down.

They return to the purple as the woman shakes her head, as if in regret. "Hello, beautiful. You must be Senator Chuchi. I am Dani. A very good friend of yours sent me to pull your lovely _shebs_ out of the fire."

Without a word, she reaches to the bottom of her dress and pulls it over her head, leaving her clad in her underwear. She turns around, busying herself with pulling items from a large bag. Riyo's eyes widen, as her mouth remains open. Her eyes soften as she sees a long, angry diagonal scar on the woman's back. A scar marked by light burn marks along the edges.

Her comm chimes. She is tempted to ignore it, to see about exploring those depthless eyes a bit, but she realizes that another figure sits on the couch. A skinny, disheveled figure who is currently looking intently at two data monocles.

She rolls her eyes and looks at her comm. 

_Your tongue is hanging out. Your 'wife' might be jealous._

She turns to her slicer. "Shut up, Ano," she says simply. As she turns back to Dani, her face falls.

The work of art is covered in a simple dress shirt and spacer's pants. The woman is seated, pulling on a pair of work boots and closing them. The dress and sandals have been heedlessly dropped into the bag. A holstered blaster is pulled out and fastened to the back of the woman's belt, in easy reach of her left hand.

"I am assuming, Senator, that since you are here displaying that magnificent body, that you have the other card?" she says in a warm voice.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, here it is." _Very smooth, Riyo._ She fumbles in her own bag. As she does, the card and the other object slips onto the floor. Dani suddenly crosses over to her and pushes her away. "Don't touch that, Riyo." she exclaims. She pulls a small cloth from her bag and lays it beside the disk-shaped object. 

She picks up the datacard and moves it to the table."What? What is it? It's just a makeup compact, right?"

Dani looks at her. "No, it isn't Riyo. You were in serious danger." She picks up the disk and points it at the cloth. She pushes the tiny button at the top. There is no noise as a small stain appears on the cloth.

"Messed up kind of makeup," the Zeltron says. "She would've probably put it up against your ear and sprayed it into the canal while you were fucking." Riyo starts at the blunt words. _Well, it is what we were about to do._

She is about to ask when Dani continues. "You would've never felt anything until your heart exploded when it was over-exerted." Riyo's eyes widen as she thinks of the exact moment when her heart might have been in that state.

"You mean she was going to kill me?"

"Yep. This isn't a defensive weapon. It is a murder tool. One of the very few violent devices exclusive to Mirialans."

"Doesn't make me feel guilty about whatever I did to put her to sleep," Riyo says, her bronze eyes flashing. Dani smiles gently, but says nothing. She turns as the male half of the murderous pair groans. Without a word she walks over to him and draws her heavy boot back and kicks him in the head. The groan tapers off in a painful decrescendo.

Riyo is smiling broadly. "That works better."

Dani gestures to Ano; to a pile of clothes next to her. "Much as I appreciate the view, you need to get into something more practical." 

"Why? They're both unconscious," she says as she pulls a skirt from the pile. "Yeah, well, with this card, your dear here, with the help of my slicer, is going to pillage a large sum of credits from the Authority and the Empire."

She tosses two identical cards to Ano. The young woman snaps them into a datapad. A pad with the label of the Corporate Sector Authority Security Police. She looks up at Dani. She starts to open her mouth; closes it. Dani nods. "Got it, sweetie." She takes the pad and walks over to the unconscious Espo. She unceremoniously yanks his bound hand up and forces the thumb away from the clenched fist in the binders. She is none too gentle with such niceties as to whether bones remain unbroken. She places the thumb on a pad. As the datapad whirs, she gazes appreciatively as Riyo pulls her swimsuit off.

Her appraisal does not go unnoticed. Riyo smiles. "If we see each other again, I would love to compare techniques on dealing with scumbag Espos," Dani says. "As long as it doesn't involve boots to the head, Dani." Riyo replies. 

"Oh, I don't think it will, beautiful," she says with an arch look. A chime on Riyo's comm sounds. 

_Do you think that you two could warn me before you start going at it? I am trying to concentrate here._

"You could stand to learn a few things, Lessi," Riyo says with an eyeroll. Her eyebrows raise. "What do you mean, Dani? 'If we see each other again?" she asks. 

At that moment, the door opens. A tall human male walks in. He, like Dani, is dressed as a spacer. Unlike Dani, he is not beautiful in any way. His long dark hair is pulled into a messy ponytail; a thick beard and bushy mustache obscure a thin mouth set into a craggy face. He stares at Riyo without expression.

"Ahh, just in time," Dani says. "This is Peacekeeper-Sergeant Murta Locke of Alderaan's Planetary Security. He is going to take you and Ano on to Pantora."

Riyo nods to the officer. A 'mmph' issues from the mustache. Dani smiles. "He is not exactly breaking out in warmth and personality, but he is a damned good pilot. Your 'friend' wants to make sure you are safe."

She looks at Locke. "Be nice, Murta," she says. After a moment's stare, he nods. "As you say, Senior," he says. Riyo is surprised at the thick accent. _Mandalore? The Mountains of the North?_

She notices that a smile can be seen in his dark eyes, if not his obscured mouth. "Senior?" she says to Dani. "Short for 'Senior Inspector,' she says. "I work for CorSec."

Riyo smiles. _I thought this smacked of the Dragon's hand,_ she thinks. "Move it on, cutie," Dani says. "Some of Murta's people have your gear packed up."

"What about you, Dani?" 

"I am going to salt the earth," comes the reply. "I've got my own nerd," she says, smiling at Ano. 

Ano actually laughs. Or at least chuckles. The equivalent of a guffaw for her. 

Riyo grows serious. "Why are you doing this, Dani? You work for law and order." Dani shakes her head as her eyes grow sad. "No. I work for justice. There is a difference." Her eyes tear. "The Empire took the love of my life from me. All because of what she was. What she was born as. This will not stand."

Riyo nods. A description of loss she has heard repeated countless times. She thinks of Ahsoka.

Riyo feels the mixture of warmth and lust as Dani folds her into her arms. "Take care, Senator. You've done good. May the Force Be With You," the woman says.

Riyo feels the warmth, but also raises her eyebrow at the wandering hands just before they break apart.

She turns to leave. As she passes Stane, she pulls her own foot back and delivers a kick that would have done a boloball forward proud, to the officer.

Dani grins as she realizes that the kick was aimed much lower than the one she had dealt.

~+~+~+~+~+

Covenant takes a deep breath of the frigid air and palms open the door of the stately old building near the Capitoline. He closes his eyes and centers himself. _Easy, bud. Don't need the full Shadow hoodoo for a karking background check._

_Just the full Bryne Covenant charm._

_Such as it is,_ says several voices at once in his head. He grins. The musical voice of an elder Huntress, its dry tones overlaid with snark and affection leads the chorus.

He comes back to the present as he sees a Pantoran male standing next to an receptionist droid. The man, dressed in most of what passes for business attire on Pantora, appraises him with a pair of blue eyes set against his lighter blue skin.

Appraises him up and down. Covenant pulls his sunshades off. The dark blue eyebrows raise. A slight smile comes over his lips. "Hello," the staffer says. "Can I help you?"

"I hope so," Covenant says smoothly. "My office was supposed to make an appointment to speak to someone about Riyo Chuchi."

"In reference to what?" he asks with suspicion rising in his voice. Covenant pulls out a business card. "I am a reporter for _Coruscant Match._ You may have heard of us?"

"Nope. I haven't. Don't read much else than the _Senate Insider."_

"Pity. Well, we are the premier holozine about life in the Imperial Center."

"And that affects Senator Chuchi, how?"

"We are interested in doing an in-depth piece on your Senator. She has been in the Senate for a while and does good things. Not to mention that she looks good while doing them."

"Don't disagree, but the Senator isn't here right now." The Pantoran smiles. "Sorry that you came all the way here for nothing, handsome." Covenant's own eyebrows rise. 

_Hmm._

"Well, I was actually wanting to talk to her acquaintances and co-workers. Just for background, right now." Covenant says. He walks over to the desk, his hand extended. "Mace Mundi," he says.

The Pantoran takes his hand and shakes it. The hand lingers for a moment afterwards. "Teon Jinks. I am the Senator's Chief of Staff and Political Director." He drops Covenant's hand.

"Sorry, but your office didn't call. Unfortunately, we are getting ready for the session coming up. We can't really accommodate you," Jinks says.

Covenant brings a look of disappointment to his face. "You just can't get good help these days."

Jinks appears to be thinking. "I might be able to slide you in," he says, finally. His eyes crinkle in a slight smirk, as if thinking of something else. "I am working a bit late, but how do you feel about a late dinner?"

"I could eat."

"Good," the staffer says. He pulls out a comm and holds it up. Bryne mimics the movement and puts it near the other device. There is a chime as information is transferred.

Covenant smiles as he feels the Pantoran's fingers ghost over his hand as their devices touch. "My place. The ninth hour," Jinks says.

"I'll be there," Covenant says. 

Jinks eyes him speculatively. "You might want to go ahead and eat." His look turns arch. "We might skip to dessert."

_Very subtle._

The receptionist droid's eyeroll would be felt by everyone, if he had actual eyes.

"Good to know." He nods and turns away. He can feel the staffer's eyes on him as he walks to the door.

As he leaves, Teon Jinks turns to the droid. "See if you can get some information on him. Find out if he is on the up and up."

"Very well. I doubt that I could go as deep as you could, though."

"Smartass. Get me the Senator, as well."

"It is what I live for, Boss."

~+~+~+~+~+

As Covenant leaves the office building, he starts towards the local cop shop, to see if his principal subject had any outstanding traffic tickets or charges pending for public indecency. He smiles as he thinks about his 'date.' 

_Only been here an hour, and already you are breaking Nola's rules. Might be a heart broken, soon._

He stops for a moment as he starts to pass the outskirts of the spaceport. Two Imperial V-Wings lift out from one of the bays. He watches as they climb to the sky. He grins as the zoomies push the throttles to the firewalls. He remembers his last command as a Jedi, of the air campaign in one of the final pushes of the GAR. Of the easy camaraderie of the pilots, much like his commandos and light infantry, but with a different dynamic.

He curses and pushes the thoughts away; as they always lead to one vision in his mind. The image of a _Venator_ class Stardestroyer ramming a Separatist capital ship; a beautiful voice fading over the comms. Of a young Wookiee in the turret hooting mournfully.

He eyes the location of the bay where the _Vevs_ came from. He makes his mind up. He pulls his comm out and ducks into an alley.

"What?" comes the terse reply.

"Such customer service, Phygus."

"Fuck off. How's that? Better?"

"It is as expected." Covenant looks heavenward and shakes his head. "I need a favor, big brother."

There is an audible sigh from the speaker. "What is it, _Inspector?_ I am busy, you know. Working for my actual boss. In a pissant hotel room, while she is living it up on a luxury liner."

"I need you to do the background check on our principal."

There is silence. "Isn't that what you are supposed to be doing, bud?"

"Got something else going, Phygus. I will be working on it tonight," Covenant says. 

Covenant can now hear the smirk over the speaker. "Working on it, or working it?" Baldrick asks.

"I will be getting information," Covenant replies, with a touch of the indignant in the drawl. 

"Let me guess. There is dinner involved," the voice says, dripping with scorn.

It is Baldrick's turn to listen to silence. "We might be skipping right to dessert."

Silence again. "So let me get this straight. You are going to be letting your dick do most of your work, while I am doing the rest of it? That about cover it?"

"Yep."

"500 credits."

"Are you out of your teeny little mind? I am not paying you shit."

"Only offer. It might go up in the next ten seconds."

"How about I agree not to tell that cute waitress at the diner about the cute CorSec dispatcher? Or their respective significant others?" Covenant says darkly.

"You do drive a hard bargain, King," the fixer finally says. "I hope that you catch something tonight that laughs at bacta," he finishes some darkness of his own in his voice.

"Little chance of that. Unlike you, I run in respectable circles."

Phygus Baldrick hangs up, just as Nola Vorserrie walks in. "Not paying you to talk on the comm with your girlfriend, little man," she says, her eyes narrowed.

"Nope. Telemarketer. Trying to sell me enhancement supplements."

The eyeroll is felt to his gut. "You don't make enough money to pay for the amount that you need."

_I walked into that one. Especially when dealing with the Last Word._

~+~+~+~+~+

Dani Faygan finishes tossing the Mirialan woman onto the floor near her husband. She is none too gentle. She tosses the stupid uniform hat that had been perched on top of her hair since she had 'borrowed' the hospitality crewmember's uniform across the cabin.

She looks down at the sleeveless blouse and shorts and rolls her eyes. _Riyo Chuchi, you owe me big time._

No one, crew or passenger, had looked askance on a crewmember assisting a slightly under the weather passenger to her cabin.

Of course, Dani had taken several drink orders on her way down with the unconscious thug. As well as cabin numbers. _Guess that they will be waiting a while._

Her comm beeps. She hits the switch.

Phygus Baldrick stares at her, his expression transforming into one of joy. "Wow, boss! Nice legs." His head rocks forward as an unseen hand connects with the back of it.

Nola Vorserrie looks at her with her own amusement. "Shut up, both of you," the CorSec officer says. "I have the datapad ready, with the cards and biometrics."

She sees Phygus look down and concentrate. "You doing okay, sis?" Nola asks. 

"Yeah, Nola. Just want to be away from these two scumbags. They tried their damndest to kill the Senator. To make it as embarrassing to her and her family, and her world as possible."

Nola is silent. "I know. You did a good thing, Daaineran."

"I need a good cleansing," she says, with a hopeful look.

Nola smirks. "I'll have the tub filled when you get back, dear."

"Just as long as you might be in it," Dani replies with an arch look. Her eyes crinkle. "Or Covenant."

Baldrick looks up, makes as to speak. Both women immediately say in unison, "Shut up, Phygus."

He smirks. "I was just going to say, I am in." He pushes a button. Dani and Nola both bite back a further comment.

Both women's eyes bug. "That is a lot of kriffing zeroes," Dani says.

"Yep. It could be all ours," Phygus says.

The temptation is palpable.

Nola shakes her head. "No. That much would be too easy to trace. What do both of you think?"

"I'd say about 50 mill," Dani says after a moment. She smiles devilishly. "Plus 50 million to leave in these assholes' accounts. After we send the other 50 through their accounts."

Phygus smiles. "No problem. I already have about 20 other baskets to put these eggs."

He looks up from his datapad. "Done. It is in their basket. It will be in there for about thirty minutes. Make sure they are out for that long."

Dani nods. "You both know that this is a one-time thing, right? Is there anything y'all might want?" he asks.

Both are silent. "No, Phygus. Thanks," Nola finally says. The half-Corellian in the conversation is silent as she thinks of how many knives she could buy.

"Damned do-gooders."

They don't see him push an extra button. 

~+~+~+~+~+

Riyo Chuchi sighs as she stares out at hyperspace in the cockpit of the small Corellian ship. As expected, Murta Locke had been a scintillating traveling companion. 

_Not._

Instead, she had spent most of the time in the main hold, playing dejarik with the young officer on loan to this little task. An officer whose previous experience had been as a traffic officer on Drall.

Melina Colum had instinctively known that Riyo had needed something to keep her mind off of the experience that she had just gone through. The other officer, Obie, Melina had called him, with a bit of fond derision, had merely watched and listened. Ano had done whatever it was that Ano did.

A light blinks on a console behind her. Locke looks at it and taps the earpiece of his headset. "Holocom for you, Senator. Pretty important if they pushed it through hyperspace."

He sees her expression, gives his brief eye-smile. "I need to go to the 'fresher," he says. "Try not to touch anything on the front part of the console."

She rolls her eyes as he leaves the cockpit.

Before she turns to the comm console, she surveys the pilot's console. She smiles as she looks at the fuel-mixture indicator and settings. She reaches for them. _Little too on the bland side. Could be a little richer without impacting fuel usage. Make better time in hyperspace._

For perhaps the hundredth time, she wonders what had happened to Sorentin Rhayme. _Probably in jail. Or hanging from a gibbet somewhere._

The handsome features of her Chief of Staff and right hand, Teon Jinks, flashes over the console. "Hey, Senator. How was the vacation?" he asks. She smiles. "Very tiring. May need a vacation from my vacation." 

"We might can arrange that. Little bit of time before the session."

_Yeah, a session of endless debate and rubber-stamping of Palpatine's policies._

She shakes her head. "What's up, Te?" she asks. "Know you didn't call to discuss my relaxation."

"Got someone looking into you." Her heart drops at those words. She is quiet. "He says he is a reporter for some Coruscant gossip rag, but I don't know if I am buying it. Got a few too many muscles and hard edges."

She smirks at his analysis. "So, let me guess. You have an appointment with him. Tonight. Late. At your place. For 'dessert."

"You know me too, well, Senator."

"So what do you think, Te?"

"I think that he might be a fun ride, but he might be more interesting to you."

"No, smartass. What do you think he is up to?"

He grows more serious. "I don't get a danger vibe in his inquiries. But there is something more than a puff piece."

"Where do you think he is from? Is he human?"

"Yeah. I think his accent is Corellian. Mixed in with some Outer Rim. Maybe Mandalorian. Definitely not cosmopolitan Coruscanti or other Core worlds."

Her expression is tempered with something. Something about the odds of being rescued by Corellians and then having one poking into her life.

"By the way, he does have a nice ass," Jinks says, as he sees her distant look.

She doesn't rise to his riposte. "What, Senator?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing. Have fun tonight and keep your eyes and ears open. See if you can find out something about his publication." Her expression grows playful. "Try not to hurt him while pumping him for information. I might want to try that ride."

"I'll do my best, Senator Chuchi. Anything for the office."

"I want details when I get back. Minute details."

"As long as you share what has tired you out so from your trip, girl."

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

~+~+~+~+~+

The young woman watches the _Kyrt'sad_ warriors move in and out of the small building. A building that she had seen them drag the very large, apparently very troublesome Fett-clone into yesterday.

Her lips curl into a sneer. _Guess that he is having some fun._ She feels not a whit of sympathy for him. Her leader had attempted to recruit him during another encounter, on another of countless worlds they had been fighting on; but he had demurred, saying he had another mission. One more important to him.

_What could be more important than what they had offered?_

Her aquamarine eyes grow harder. She sweeps her messy, jet-black bangs out of her eyes. _Of course he shows up here as an agent of that weakling Fulcrum; that pretend-rebel._

Worse, the giant clone had been seen in the company of that man who some would call her father. 

She would not. He was merely a sperm-donor. Her mother's experiment with lesser forms of humanity at University.

One that had also produced that treacherous Imperial of a twin sister. The young woman smiles. She preferred her chaos to be more direct, rather than looking at everything as an experiment. Of looking at every one as a lab animal.

Including her twin sister. Of course, both of them had been her mother's experiments. Experiments as her mother rained terror and horror on the galaxy.

The woman watches as the huge Mando and his slighter partner walk out from the building. _Wonder if that means that they have tired of carving off body parts from the Null._

She had seen them both execute prisoners with no more compunction than a nerf swatting a _sorte_ -fly. Their level of chaos and mayhem could be truly appreciated by one such as her.

She shakes her head and lowers her _buy'ce_ over her eyes. Her _beskar'gam,_ the one product of her father's heritage that she appreciates, is dotted with bright patterns that cover the armor. Patterns and arcane markings that are duplicated on her body.

_It is time._

She touches a button on her wrist. "Saw, I think that this place is ripe. It is time to bring chaos," she says.

Rhose Zan Arbor, a product of two very different worlds, smiles in anticipation.


	7. Of Bad Cops and Good Pirates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad cops have a reckoning for their methods. A huntress schools pirates.

Dani Faygan surveys the cabin. She smiles as she thinks of Riyo. _Dammit, didn't get her commcode,_ she thinks idly. _Oh, well. It's good to have staff. Covenant will get it for me. If he doesn't get it for himself._

She starts pulling out drawers and opening suitcases. She has already gone through every electronic device in the room. She had found some interesting search histories on the datapads. _Interesting for a pair of law enforcement officers._

Of course, the Corporate Sector Authority Security Police were only one step below the Imperial Security Bureau in its personnel philosophy. A philosophy of finding and hiring whatever flotsam and jetsam that washed up on their shore.

Mercenary message boards; especially those where said mercenaries offer up services for murder, kidnapping, and general thuggery are prevalent. That would be normal for a cop, if there weren't so many posts from the account that Phygus had sliced on the datapad. Posts including the acceptance of some fairly interesting jobs for the Hutts in the Outer Rim. As well as some for the Black Sun against the Hutts.

She opens a small case from a drawer. Her eyebrows raise as she sees the particular....technology present. Items that might be thought of as religious objects on Zeltros. A part of the tradition of the worship of pleasure and living life to the fullest.

She switches one object on and smirks. She looks at the unconscious Mirialan woman. _Amateur._ She drops the object. 

Her smile broadens as she pulls another case out and opens it. A case lined with velvet, with cutouts. A case filled with knives. Knives from different worlds. Including a couple from her world. She picks one up. _Not exactly something I could carry in public off of my world._

She sets two knives aside. 

Her expression grows serious as she goes back to the browsing history. _These are not people who need to remain being cops. Even for the Authority. Maybe especially the Authority.  
_

She looks at the couple. Neither have shown any inclination to wake. Leve, in particular, lies asleep with a beatific smile on her face. Jaze, less so, with the bruise on his forehead from her boot. 

She pulls her comm out. "Hey, Boss," the small figure says. "What's up?"

"What do you mean 'what's up? You usually answer with 'don't bother me, I'm watching holonet porn."

"Somebody blocked the sites," he says idly. "Don't look at me, she says. "I don't care about your habits, as long as it ain't something illegal and it doesn't bite me in the ass."

"Well, none of that is illegal." he says cryptically. Dani shakes her head. _I had to call him, didn't I?_ " What was the name of that ISB agent who was trying to recruit Covenant, before he came out of the cover?"

Phygus smiles at the verbal dance for anyone that might be listening. _You mean when you found him again. When Bryne Covenant was actually born outside of bits and bytes._

She hears him tapping keypads. "Kolan. Dav Kolan. ISB-010. He has just been assigned as the Station Chief on Alderaan."

"What else do we know about him?"

"Besides the fact that he and Covenant might have done the nasty on Takodana?"

"Yes." She says dryly. "Besides that."

"He is an ex-Republic Navy pilot. Decorated. Taken off combat status after a serious head-injury. He was flag-lieutenant for Wullf Yularen during the Umbara campaign."

"Yularen who is now the Deputy Director for Counterinsurgency for ISB?" 

"The same. Indications I get from digging deeper is that our boy is not too popular with his colleagues." 

"Why is that?" Dani asks, her eyes narrowing. 

"He does have a sense of honor. That has brought him into conflict with some of his less scrupulous colleagues."

Dani is silent as she digests this. "Don't get the wrong idea, Daaineran," Phygus says. "He is still liable to commit any violent act in the name of order. He just may not if it goes against his honor."

"The other thing, is and this may not be anything, he is technically only on detached duty from the Navy to ISB. That is probably another thing that has pissed his buddies off. He is not 'one of them,' unlike Yularen, who retired from the Navy and joined ISB proper."

"So Yularen is his 'hook'?" Dani asks. Phygus is thoughtful. "No. Not really. Yularen respects him, but I think that he has been given his post because he gets results and there is another flag officer close to Yularen who he is more beholden to."

"Who?"

"A new sector Moff named Secor. Kolan's first Captain in the Judicials. Yularen's senior officer, as well."

"Okay. I need a bath from all of this Imperial-ness. How do you know all this, little man?

"Your Inspector Sausage asked me to compile it all."

_Oh, really?_

"All right. Put it on my desktop for when I get back. Might have to have a talk with the boy."

"Dani, if you are thinking of involving this guy, be careful. He could bite."

"So can I, little man. So can I," she says slowly.

Dani disconnects the comm. After a second of thought, she pulls out her code cylinder and inserts it into her datapad, linking her comm.

She types in a command and waits. Within a moment, a sharp, Core-accented voice emits from her comm.

"Kolan. So what does CorSec, particularly a senior Inspector in the Training section want with ISB?" There is a hint of dry humor in his voice. A holo pops up above the pad. A human male with regular features and a pair of dark eyes that resemble Dani's own when her emotions run high, gaze at her.

"Might have some information for you," Dani says. She smiles her most winning smile. 

_Not a lot of effect,_ she thinks. 

"And what might that be?"

"Attempted murder of an Imperial senator."

"You'll have to do better than that, darling. Can't get too excited about that. Hell, we've a killed a couple ourselves in the last six months." He smirks. "Judicially and legally, of course."

Dani raises her dark eyebrows at the statement. "Well, this involves a couple of Espo agents. I have evidence of research on prohibited sites, and I have the weapon in question. A Mirialan assassination disk."

"Hmm. Kinky. I am assuming you have had it analyzed?"

"No. I did it myself. You want the data?"

"Route it to Agent Raisa Horan in my office. She is at the top of my shit list." Dani punches a few buttons on her pad. "There. On the way."

"Just for my records, Inspector Faygan, what are the names of these miscreants?"

Dani smirks. "Miscreants? Big word for an ISB agent," she snarks. 

"I had someone sound it out for me, dear heart," he retorts. "Names."

"Jaze and Leve Stane," she replies.

Something dangerous grows in his dark eyes at the sound of the second name. His livid scar stand out against his taut forehead. "Leve Stane? Also known as Leve Agee?"

She checks her file. "Yep. Birthname."

He looks down. "You should be at Etti IV in six hours. Another agent and I will be there waiting on you."

"Why the sudden change of heart, Kolan?" the Zeltron asks. 

"Need to stretch my legs. See you in a bit, Inspector."

Dani curses. _Guess that is what Phygus meant._

~+~+~+~+~+

Dav Kolan signs off. The name that the CorSec woman had given him shoves its way into his memories. To the memories of his brothers; the members of his air group from the Stardestroyer _Advantageous._ Men who had nothing, but their names and their brothers. Men who had included him and his XO, Hana Yung, in their tight knit camaraderie.

A couple who included him in their berths, where rank didn't matter.

The name dregs up memories. Painful memories of some of those pilots.

Five pilots in particular. Volk. Tenner. Step. Vector. The shiny, so new he hadn't earned a name, yet. 

The cover for a later campaign on some nameless planet. Another of the Republic's fiascos. Kolan had flown the high cover for the bombers with these five in their Z-95s.

The droid fighters had attacked in greater numbers than anticipated by Command. The bombers of his air group had been wiped out; two squadrons worth. Forty-eight pilots and gunners, as well as their astromechs wiped out in the space of two minutes. 

He and his five pilots had been ordered to set down near a ground unit, to await refueling, rearming, and another cadre of bombers for the meat grinder.

He curses as the mists of memory well. Of the position of the ground units being overrun. Of being separated from his pilots.

The picture in his mind.

Five clonetroopers kneeling, commando droids and a sentient officer. His own arms pinioned by B1 battledroids.

The pain of the droids' grip as the officer slowly walks up to him. The Separatist pulls her helmet off. He realizes it is a purloined trooper's helmet with Separatist cogs replacing the Republic's. A Mirialan woman looks at him from behind a collection of tattoos splitting her face. Her ice blue eyes bore into him under her incongruous cap of red hair.

"Hello, Commander. It is good to see an actual human here in the theater. Rather than these meat-droids," she says. 

"They are just as sentient as you are, darling. Probably more so."

She laughs. "Ahh, I have a clone-rights' activist." She brings her hand to his cheek. "A handsome one at that." She turns her hand on his face; strokes her fingers over his face.

"A pity. I have the same I feelings for your clones that I do for these fucking tin cans," she says. She draws her blaster and splits the nearest B1's cranium with a centered bolt.

There is muttering among the gathered B1 droids in their modulated voices. Kolan struggles against the two holding him. He looks at his pilots. Their eyes are on him. He looks at them, knowing what is coming from the Separatist. He shakes his head at them. He remembers laughing with them in light moments and crying with them when their _Vod'e_ failed to return.

Of holding at least one of them against him against the darkness in their shared lives. Volk's eyes are on him, his blue, ghost eyes cutting him. There is no fear in his eyes.

Kolan tears his eyes away from his troopers. His _Vod'e._

He focuses on the woman. "So what is a nice Mirialan girl doing as a traitorous bitch for the Seppies?" he asks. He sees Volk, the squadron commander, manage to touch the distress beacon on his wrist. 

Dav's head rocks back from her fist. He spits blood on the ground. Her eyes calm. "Simple, handsome. They pay better and I want to be on the winning side."

"Commander Agee," a commando droid intones. "What?!" the woman screams. "Republic gunships are moving towards our position."

"Ahh, so you managed to get a signal out, handsome. Very clever."

"Prepare to move out." Agee says to the droid. "What about the prisoners?" the droid asks.

She smiles; a horrible expression at that particular moment. "I don't see any prisoners. Just five corpses."

"No,you fucking psychopath. They are prisoners of war..." Dav shouts. "They are protected."

"Don't see it that way, Commander," she says, the smile still plastered on her face. "They are clones. They are property of the Republic. Now they are mine, to do with how I see fit."

She jerks her head at the droids holding Kolan. They struggle to move him over to where his _Vod'e_ kneel.

"Bitch, you had better make me kneel. If you leave me alive, I will hunt your demented ass down and take you apart piece by piece."

"Unfortunately, handsome, I am under orders to bring you to headquarters. Maybe after the torture droids are finished, I can take care of that little detail. But first..."

The woman turns and shoots the shiny. The young pilot with no name. Dav manages to swing one of the droids into the woman. The droid doesn't let go of him and he is on the ground. Agee kicks him in his groin. Without a word, she turns and walks down the line, methodically shooting the other troopers.

She reaches Volk. A low growl issues from Kolan. Agee notices. "So this one means something to you, huh, handsome?"

"They all do," he manages. Her expression grows strange. Almost tender. "We all have lost loved ones, Commander," she says quietly. 

Volk's eyes are staring at him from the ground as explosions erupt around him. Droids fly apart. He loses sight of the Mirialan as a piece of droid strikes his head. His last sight is of Volk's eyes again.

When he awakes, Hana Yung's beautiful dark eyes gaze sadly into his.

He snaps back to the present. He touches a button on his desk. "Horan. Get your useless, backstabbing ass in here. Time to actually do some work."

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka Tano, the Fulcrum known by a variety of names, apparently now also known as Jana Roshti, wife of a Imperial senator, comes awake with a start. Her eyes focus on the control panel in front of her.

_Lot of shiny there._

She groans as she tries to get up from the very comfortable pilot's chair of the Papanoida Entertainment Lines VIP yacht. _Well, at least my ass didn't fall asleep in this chair. Wonder if the wife of Riyo Chuchi could keep this for her use?_

She smiles gently as her mind flies back to the brief few minutes in Riyo's shower as their skin touched under the steaming water. For a brief few moments, the emptiness that sits in her chest and comes to the forefront of her thoughts when she is resting or her mind is not occupied, is not present.

The emptiness swells as she thinks of those names she has been known by in her short life. The largest mass of emptiness comes from the absence of the man who had called her _Snips._ Her Master, Anakin Skywalker. Once again, as she does at least five times a day, she reaches out in the frayed bond.

As always, there is only emptiness. As always, instead of the pain, she focuses on the joy. The laughter and the snark. The lessons that both of them learned from one another. She sees herself bowing to him on the Temple landing platform, surrounded by Wookiees.

_Thank you, my Master._

_You're welcome, my Padawan._

Another name. One that only three people had been allowed to call her. She sees the masked visage of the first. His deep voice, the first true voice in the first Force she had heard, voicing an actual apology for her expulsion. _You have our most humble apologies, Little 'Soka._

She thinks of the blond clone captain who had taught her so much. The captain who had moved to 'Commander' and 'sir,' from 'kid.'

To _'Soka_ in moments of quiet, as they sat together after a battle. Battles that she could see the worry on his face for her survival, mixed with respect for her growth, power, and love for her brothers.

Her smile morphs into a grin as she thinks of a little girl with dark eyes and braids, an imperious look as the usual expression. An expression that softens in joy when she listens to the warrior. To her 'Soka.

As always, when she thinks of her losses, her mind goes to her hunt-brother. She laughs out loud as she thinks of his dry humor, patiently teaching her and snarking over breakfast food that he had usually prepared in the peace of the pre-war youngling clan quarters.

Of his patient listening to her fears; listening without offering platitudes. Of seeing his own fears - fears that he would fail his beloved Master and cement the rumors of her lack of skill when it came to teaching. Of seeing the obvious love and respect she saw between them.

She does not think of the week when their feelings changed for each other; when the light grew in an all-too-brief ship's night on Garel.

When they both grew.

She pushes the brief buzz of his warm voice and the bright tri-colored light she has felt in her Force sense in the last month.The light that she had suppressed, when she felt that there was no way that he could be alive.

For a brief moment, she curses the Force, as she thinks of the teasing and torturing suggestion that he might be still alive.

The indicator light on the navicomputer starts to shove the present into her pain. She stands up and stretches. She feels her feet plant to the deck and lock. 

She isn't aware that she is mimicking the indicator of stubbornness in that hunt-brother.

The one who was the only person to call her by a particular name. A name that smacks of derision; but from him and him alone is a word of love.

_Runt._

Ahsoka sits again in the pilot's chair. She sighs and hauls back on the hyperspace engine control. As the engine cycles down, she punches buttons to raise the shields on the pleasure craft.

She reaches up and cuts in the sublight engines.

As the stars shift to their familiar pinpricks from the controlled chaos of hyperspace, two explosions rock the small craft.

She immediately slams the control yoke over and throws the fancy craft into a downward pitch and then roll to port. She slams the sublight engines into full military. She searches for anything to fight with.

_Ahh. There we go._

Her left hand reaches over to a small control panel. She snaps the covers off of two switches and activates them. She sees a small control screen pop up. 

She manipulates the small trackball on the yoke. She sees parallel lines match up and flash from the rear of the ship.

Ahsoka punches the red button on the top of the yoke in quick succession. She sees the hits register on the graphic on her screen.

Her eyes begin to trace the silhouette of the marauder on the screen. Her eyes widen as she begins to recognize the shape.

Ahsoka Tano, the Fulcrum of a growing rebellion curses in several languages. Her hand moves to the opposite console from the weaponry. Before she can reach it, a larger explosion rocks her ship.

She realizes her mistake as she flies out of the chair.

Apparently comfy pilot's chairs on luxury star yacht on private yachts still have to have their restraints buckled. The young warrior manages to seize the arms of the chair with the Force and propel her back to the seat.

Apparently the Force has a sense of humor as her concentration is broken and she is deposited sprawling in the seat, upside down.

Her cursing skills in several languages are expanded as she feels the sharp lurch of a tractor beam attaching to her ship. She manages to right herself in the seat.

Her hand moves to the thottle; half-tempted to add the afterburners, such as they are.

Instead, she closes her eyes and cuts power and resistance to the come-hither.

 _If this is who I think it is, there will be hell to pay,_ she thinks darkly.

~+~+~+~+~+

Leve Stane sees light at the horizon of her memory as she struggles to come awake. The dream of the past; surrounded by battle droids as the cyborg scuttles towards her multiple lightsabers swinging is vivid. 

But the memories are quelled by an unknown warmth as she struggles to recall where she is. She has a memory of warm blue skin; of her heart rate rising and then - nothingness.

The warmth is still present in her center as she fights to consciousness. Leve starts awake to a groan. She looks over and sees her husband grimacing and holding his head.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asks without preamble. 

"Your goddamned bed-gift stunned me. I think she also kicked me in the head and then the balls." he replies; his voice shaky, but with an edge.

"What bed gift? I didn't send you a bed gift. I was doing my goddamned job; trying to take care of our little Senator."

Jaze tries to rise; fails. He decides to remain on the floor. "Some Zeltron piece. She said that you and she had kriffed and that you sent her to share."

Leve's voice rises as she manages to come off of the deck. "Listen, asshole, I was doing my job," she repeats. "Killing that Pantoran Senator and tying up that loose end."

"Well, did you? Or did you just fuck her?"

Leve holds up a finger. She goes to her bag. As she rummages through it, Jaze is able to pull himself up. He sits gingerly on the bed. The Mirialan cop looks at him; a slow expression of horror building on her tattooed face. Her olive skin goes pale. "The disk is gone. I apparently wasn't able to use it on her."

All thoughts of his pain disappear. He sees a datapad lying on the desk, where he had left it. "What are you doing?" his wife asks. 

"Putting out a BOLO on our senator. We're back in the Authority's jurisdiction. I'll contact Odumin. He'll get us reinstated."

"Already tried. He wasn't taking my calls, Jaze." she says. She reaches into her bathing suit bottom. The datachip key was still in place. "This hasn't been messed with."

She sees Jaze's eyes darken. Against his face going pale. "What, love?" she says softly. 

"We're in the shit."

"How?" she asks. "I couldn't get into the EsPo net. Instead I found two BOLOs that came in before it locked." he says.

"For who?"

"Us. For attempted murder of an Imperial Senator," he starts. "And theft of Imperial and Authority funds."

He pulls a second datapad and punches buttons. Without a word, he shows it to his wife. "We're rich, honey," he says, irony dripping from his words. Her face falls as she sees the number. Her eyes flash. "Get it out of that account!" she yells. "Before they freeze it!"

She stands up as she realizes she is still dressed only in the bottom of a swimsuit. As she does, a pounding starts on the door to the cabin.

"Grab what you can, babe," she says, as she pulls a shirt on. He runs to the door. Without a word he picks up a blaster and fires three shots in quick succession through the thin door.

The pounding stops. He carefully opens the door. Two of the liner's master-at-arms' force lie in the corridor. 

He turns to his wife, who is now dressed, with several weapons on her body. As he does, a blaster bolt strikes his shoulder.

As he falls, he sees two Imperial fleet troopers moving down the corridor. A tall man with hard features and a scar in his hairline above his black eyes follows them.

Double lines of blaster bolts fly past him from the opening. Both troopers are struck; the tall human moves deliberately out of the line of fire.

"Come on, love," Leve says. "It's just a scratch."

"Thanks, babe, for the love and care," the Corellian says.

"Anytime," she replies. 

"You know you could show a little bit more care. I don't need batteries like some of your devices, do," Jaze says as they turn and run in the opposite direction of the Imperial.

"Yes, dear." she says as they round the corner to the hangar bay, "but those devices don't talk back."

She is silent as her twin blasters open up on the two troopers advancing on them from the bay. Leve goes down as one of the trooper's bolts strike her leg. 

A door opens and a young woman in an Imperial uniform and armor steps out. Jaze strikes with his good arm at her face; with his blaster. As she is laying on the deck, he points his blaster at her head. She manages to pull her blaster out, but a bolt from behind strikes him in the back.

Leve screams as he goes down, but manages to get up and return fire in both directions. The tall Imperial is hit in the chest. 

The two fleet troopers at the door of the hanger bay are lying dead, as are the two crew members and one passenger that they had used as shields, from Leve's rapid fire.

She kicks the female Imperial in the head as she manages to lift Jaze up. As the door to the hangar bay opens; Leve is struck again from behind as a crimson-skinned woman runs up; her blaster in her left hand. Leve staggers up and checks herself. _Well, at least it is on the same side and in my leg. Just higher up._

 _The upper thigh._ She holsters her blaster and pulls a round object. She sees the Zeltron running towards her, but stopping as she sees the object that Leve rolls down the passageway.

Idly, Leve's thoughts are on the beautiful Zeltron diving for cover, tackling a civilian who has come out of a room and shoving her back into the compartment. _Not bad,_ she thinks. _I can see how Jaze could think I would've gifted her to him._

All thoughts of Zeltrons are gone as she seals the door. She can feel the muffled explosion of the grenade as she drags Jaze to one of the two Imperial shuttles sitting there. 

As she is sitting in the pilot's chair contemplating their options, she makes a choice. She reverses thrust through the magnetic field.

Straight into the chaos of hyperspace. 

She thinks of their future as her body and mind feels as they are wrenched apart, bit by bit.

~+~+~+~+~+

Dani manages to fight her way to consciousness and to tiny pinpricks of pain in her back. Her shirt is off and she is laying face down on a med table. She realizes that a medical droid is pulling pieces and bits of something out of her skin. She looks up. The ISB agent, Kolan, is looking at her with an amused expression on his face. His own shirt is off; his chest has a bacta pad over it near the right shoulder.

She smiles appreciatively at his chest. He rolls his eyes. "It's wasted on me, my darling," he says. 

"Yeah, well, I can always drool. Even though you're not my type."

"What is your type, Daaineran?" he asks.

"Anyone that is not an ISB agent. Unless it is in the line of duty."

"Good to know," he says. The droid finishes and she sits up, facing him." He looks idly at her chest. 

She smirks at his close inspection. "Yeah, Inspector, you can turn' the volume down on 'em. As well as the hoodoo."

"Good to know you can feel it." She pulls her jacket around her. "Well, I guess those two psychos got away."

"Yeah. Thanks to your bad shooting and a certain junior ISB agent leaving her launch codes enabled on her shuttle."

"I didn't see you hitting the broad side of a barn before I got there." He stares at her, his dark eyes looking into her own.

"So, I guess you've already spaced her? Your minion?" Dani asks, a hard look in her own eyes. He smiles distantly. "Still thinking about it, but I am going to wait until she gets out of bacta to decide."

She smiles to herself as she thinks of the expense of bacta. Her face grows serious. "How many?"

"Ten. All dead, between my troopers, ship's crew, and civilians."

"We would've probably had less civilians dead if your scumbag troopers hadn't been using them as shields."

Kolan doesn't rise to the bait. "Don't worry, those two are personally at the top of my shit list. I might ask, however, Senior Inspector, what you were looking into, when you stumbled across these two."

"You may ask." is all that she says.

He examines his bandage. "I could insist. It might be painful," he says.

"Insist and be damned, love," she says pleasantly, but with a hint of steel behind her voice and her morphing black eyes. "I have been threatened by Siths and assassins the galaxy over."

"Yes, but I am much more charming. By the way, how is Inspector Covenant? Our last visit ended with me waking up on a transport to the Outer Rim."

"It must not have been memorable for him, cause he swears that he doesn't think anything happened."

"Well, you can tell him that he has a nice scar on his hip, near his brain."

Dani smirks. "I'll be glad to pass along your approval."

"You can tell him thanks for returning my jacket on Takodana."

"It cost too much to have it fumigated," she says.

For once in his life, he can only stare at her, with no ready comeback.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lassa Rhayme stares at the small yacht nestled against an airlock of her ship. Her expression darkens as she sees the energy scores along the _Opportunity's_ hull. 

The yacht is marked as well. She and Tehlen look at one another. They both roll their eyes, but grow more serious as no one answers the hails.

She pulls the tiny runabout next to the small hangar and uses a simple code to open the door.

As the hangar repressurizes, she and Tehlen check their weapons. "Atmosphere reads breathable, Lassa," the young Stornani says, checking an instrument on her vambrace. "Well, that is one thing. Those idiots at least didn't vent the atmosphere. That is something in their favor." She draws her blaster and palms the door open.

The ship is quiet. Her azure face and bronze eyes grow more thunderous as she sees blaster marks scoring some of the bulkheads.

Her eyes narrow as she recognizes a few different types of scarring in the paint. Something she hadn't seen since the end of the Clone War when a young Jedi and an ex-Sith assassin had tried to kill each other in her cabin.

The bulkheads still bore scars from that epic fight. A fight that had ended when she had stunned both of them and threw them in a cargo hold with Force-suppressant binders.

One of them still naked from a night in her bed.

She stalks through the ship. She begins to see crew members lying unconscious and bound in the passageways. 

They both check them as they come to them. All breathing.

She decides to leave them where they lay. Tehlen looks perplexed as she sees Lassa shake her head, when she goes to release and wake one of the downed crew. "Nope," Lassa says, "let them reflect on their sins. I told them not to do anything stupid. That is what I get for letting Thyla go off on her own and sending Adis to watch things on the ground."

She begins to stalk through the ship, seeing more and more of the crew in the same, unconscious and bound state. She begins to see some of their weapons destroyed by some energy field.

Or blade.

She hears voices in the CR-90's cockpit. A particularly familiar, and beloved voice. She smiles, her expression growing softer.

Tehlen sees her expression lighten. Her eyebrows raise, as a question flows to her dark features. Lassa holsters her blaster and motions for Tehlen to do the same. She palms the door open.

Both women see several crew members bound, but conscious on the deck. Including the about-to-be unemployed navigator and engineer she had left in charge, as the adult supervision.

Tehlen Skirata is treated to the rare sight of Lassa Rhayme, feared pirate of the Outer Rim, looking at the sight before them with a soft expression and a hint of tears in her eyes.

There are members of her crew (none present) who would tell Tehlen that they are tears of joy.

Joy at seeing the young woman sitting in the command chair, alive and whole.

A young Togruta sitting with a small child in her lap, reading to her.

"...the DC-17 blaster is reassembled with the Tibanna gas module being fitted into the actuator housing first. This must be done before the trigger assembly is fitted or the fit will be poor."

This is read as if she was reading the _The Sleepy Little Tooka_ to the little girl. A little girl who is leaning her head back against the huntress's chest, her eyes and ears focused.

"My dad says that is bantha poodoo," the little girl says. "DC-17s can take any a....a....a a-buse," she gets out.

"Your dad sounds like he is pretty smart."

"I wouldn't go that far," the little girl says with a smirk. "He still can't fly."

The reader looks up from her book. She sees the pirate captain standing in the hatchway. Her own eyes soften.

"You really need to work on your crew, Lassa," Ahsoka Tano says. "They aren't too bright."


	8. Reunions, Revelations, and Incarcerations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The history of Stornan and its relationship with Mandalore and the gas is revealed. A revelation on Pantora. Ahsoka realizes why she is here.

Talle busies herself lying against Ahsoka's chest. The familiarity of the girl's features nags at the warrior's mind. The familiarity of movement; the controlled power; the strength of her expressions tell Ahsoka that she should know this little girl and her origins. She closes her eyes and touches the Force. A vision comes to the forefront of her mind; of arguing and raised voices; a calm voice intervening; a calm voice growing in its own volume as two stubborn combatants continue arguing.

The vision of large powerful arms encircling her in the dim light of the Coruscant underworld. 

Lassa sees the play of emotions on Ahsoka's face. She walks over and kneels down next to the girl. Ahsoka comes back to herself and looks at the pirate with an unreadable expression. "Hey, sweetie. Do you mind if I borrow your comfy chair for few minutes? We haven't seen each other in a while." Ahsoka's heart flips as she sees the girl narrow her eyes at the Pantoran; then nod. She pulls herself out of Ahsoka's lap. As she does, the huntress places a kiss on the back of her head. The girl turns around and gives her a bright smile that overwhelms her with its wattage.

Tehlen finishes untying the last of the crewmembers and takes the little girl's hand. They exit the bridge. Lassa looks at the rest of her crew with contempt. "Get the fuck out," she says, her voice cold. 

They fall over themselves to obey. As the last one exits, Lassa rises over Ahsoka and leans her hands on the arm of the chair. She and the younger woman look at each other, remembering the past. Ahsoka's arms finally encircle the pirate's back as Lassa rests her forehead against the Togruta's. "It is so good to see you, sweetling," Lassa whispers. "I've laid awake a lot of nights wondering whether my Quartermaster is still alive. Whether she is lying on some shithole of a world with her guts spilled on the ground."

Ahsoka is quiet. She finally replies. "I know, Lassa. I am sorry that I haven't contacted you. I try to keep my friends at arm's length. To keep them safe."

It is Lassa's turn to be silent. She eases down to rest against the warrior's body. "You know you don't have to, Ahsoka. There are those who would share the risk with you."

"Lassa, I can't ask that of you. You have a crew to answer to. You need to make a living and feed them." The Smirk flows over her features with ease. "Even if they are next to useless and do stupid-ass things."

She feels Lassa's rueful grin against her cheek. "Yeah, well. The days of the feared Blood Bone Order may be over. There is no one left except Adis who remembers you. Thyla has gone off on her own; she said she needed a break. We are just trying to avoid the Empire, who seem to be more ruthless when it comes to suppressing us. I ain't exactly popular with the Hutts, either."

"Too independent, I guess," she finishes.

"Can't imagine that," Ahsoka replies with a dry smile. Her expression grows serious. "I am hoping that there is a fight coming. It may take a while." She looks into the pirate's bronze eyes. "I'll need all of my friends, then."

Lassa nods. "I don't know if I can get involved, love. As you said, I have my crew to think of. The only reason I am here is because someone dropped a load of cash for me to pull your giant out of the fire."

Ahsoka is thoughtful. "I know, love," she says, unconsciously echoing the pirate's language. "But I also know you are an honorable woman, who hates what she is seeing. I would welcome your help, but I also don't want to see anyone else I love be hurt."

Lassa pulls her from the chair. Their arms are tight about each other. Without another word, Lassa reaches into the top of Ahsoka's shirt. She hears the sharp intake of breath as her fingers play over the skin. She moves her hand to the gold Republic credit hanging between the warrior's breasts. She brings it up and kisses it; placing it outside of the shirt. Ahsoka looks at her with amusement as she finishes the placement of the insignia, her hands lingering on her chest. Ahsoka moves her hand to the cheek of the Pantoran. The two women kiss gently. 

Lassa breaks away after several minutes. She pushes the younger woman away and slaps her on the ass. "Come on. Let me introduce you to your crew, Quartermaster. They may be new, but I drilled it into them about what this insignia means." Her eyes lock with the blue of the huntress. "Maybe after all of this is over, we might have time for a long bath."

"I'd like that, Captain." She grins. "I've gotten laid more in the last month than I have in the last two years."

"Yeah, well. Your scintillating personality strikes again."

As the Rebel moves out the compartment, she doesn't see the pain on the pirate captain's face as she thinks of a night on Garel nearly five years ago. When she had moved two uncertain young warriors towards each other. To touch each other's bodies as they had touched each other's hearts in a different way for years.

Of the brief night before the world ended. She is troubled as she wonders where the man known as Taliesin Croft is in the universe. Whether he is alive or dead, whole or still broken after she had kicked him off of her crew; when his grief and pain had overwhelmed his good sense and his sense of self-preservation.

A sense filled with grief and pain over his family. The Jedi. But mostly for two people. The woman, another huntress who had shaped him and the younger huntress that she had just held.

She shakes her head. _She is alive, at least. Alive, if not whole._

~+~+~+~+~+

Bryne Covenant makes his way to the docking bay on the eastern side of the capital city of Pantora. As he approaches the bay, he thinks about what Phygus has learned about the 33rd Revenue Cutter Flotilla of the Imperial Security Bureau's Commerce Protection Branch. The flotilla, which always seemed to be in the area of escaping spice smuggling vessels had a spotty record when it came to interdiction.

The Commander of the flotilla had been replaced twice in the last year. _If you call being promoted to full Captain and returned to duty in the Imperial fleet, being replaced._

Covenant's eye notices that the docking bay is not your standard, drab, Imperial docking bay, but a state of the art, well-appointed open bay.

Only one of the four _Fiscal_ class revenue cutters on the flotilla's listed establishment are housed; her hyperdrive access points open. The eight _Vevs_ assigned are also elsewhere.

He notices that no guards are stationed at the entrance to the bay. He puts on his best awestruck bumpkin face. His bosses, both current and former, would agree that the expression comes naturally. He takes a deep breath and centers himself in the Force. To an outside observer, his face would take on an indistinct look, as if the observer wouldn't be able to remember it if asked.

He walks into the bay. He notices only a few maintenance droids are working on the cutter, a variant of the _Gozanti_ armed transport that the Empire is so fond of. He edges closer to the ship and pushes a button on a device in his pocket.

 _Hopefully that little doo-dad of Phygus's isn't too noticeable,_ he thinks.

"You there! What the hell are you doing here? This is a restricted area," comes the loud voice of Imperial officialdom.

_Well, shit._

He turns to the voice. Thankfully the voice is not modulated or doesn't emanate from a cranky naval trooper.

Or even some shiny academy graduate. Instead, an older human stands there in the gray coveralls of a naval rating. Covenant puts on his best _caught_ expression. _Hopefully I can get away from one Imperial swabbie. He is probably trying to get away from his Chief or divisional officer._

"Is this a _Gozanti?_ I spent two years on one before the war, with the Judicials. Have they made any improvements? They were slugs back in the day," he says in an endless stream.

_Either I may get somewhere with shop-talk, or he will just try to move me on._

He notices the rating looking around for a few seconds, then relaxing. "I was a chief in the Judicials. Back in the day," the rating says. He takes Covenant's hand.

_Shop-talk._

For the next ten minutes, Bryne and his new best friend talk about lift-mass ratios, thrust-vector differentials, and other assorted topics of interest to two swabbies, such as the differences between _Gozantis_ and _Fiscals._ At the end, while Phygus's device collects information, he does learn one bit of important trivia.

"....we're not just hunting tax and tariff dodgers," the rating whispers conspiratorially. "We're doing something important out here. It is why our engines and hyperdrives have been upgraded."

Bryne tries not to look as interested as he is. He is about to enquire further when an unseen voice bellows, "Skimmerhorn- where the hell is that damned spanner?"

Bryne nods sympathetically as the rating whispers under his breath, "Goddamned Navy."

Covenant shakes the crewer's hand. "Take care, Skim. Clear skies."

"Thanks. I appreciate it. If you're ever in the area, let's find a bar." He rolls his eyes as the voice bellows again. "God-damned Navy spanner," is heard as a whisper.

He turns back to his ship. Bryne stands watching the ship; as if in the throes of nostalgia.

He waits until he feels the device vibrate in his pocket. He turns away and makes himself scarce.

He is down the street and walking back to the city center when his comm buzzes. He moves into a sheltered doorway and answers.

"What have you got, short-stuff?"

"A bigger brain than you."

Bryne waits patiently. _Okay, not so patiently._ "Come on, troll. I don't have all day," he says. "Yeah. That's right. You have a hot date tonight."

Covenant says nothing, merely waits. "Fine," Baldrick says. "Got a good amount of information. Waiting for it to decrypt, but I'll give you the one-syllable version." Covenant waits some more while the slicer sifts the data. "They are not what they seem. They still have the Revenue unit title, but they have been detached to something else. A joint ISB and Intelligence thing called _Operation Windfall."_

"So what it it, Phygus?" 

"Don't know, Bryne. Just know that it is not just the Flotilla Commander that has been shifted. They've been rotating some heavy hitters in the squid circles. All of the officers have been rotated in and out from the Seventh Fleet. The best of the best."

Covenant's eyebrows raise. "Cream of the crop for a bunch of revenooers. Kinda goes with the info I got that their ships have received upgraded sublight and hyperdrive engines."

"Can you see what else you can find out without getting us shot, Phygus?" Covenant asks. The voice at the other end sounds aggrieved. "Who do you think that you are talking to, Inspector Sausage?"

"Yeah, that never gets old, half-shit." Covenant says darkly. "What else have you got?"

There is silence on the end. _He trying to figure out something to do to me on the way back. Nola will probably be involved._ "I traced ownership of the docking area they are in. The Imps didn't confiscate it. There is a dummy company that owns it. It is traced to a non-profit with a pretty interesting local board member."

"Come on, Phygus," Bryne says. "While we are still young."

"The board member is Ion Papanoida. Son of the current Chairman of Pantora."

Covenant hangs up without another word. His eyes narrow as he thinks of the connections that he is seeing. A non-profit with a dummy company. A connection to the ruling family of the planet. An Imperial elite squadron that may or may not be letting spice smugglers import dangerous spice to his homeworld.

He checks the time on his comm. He shakes his head and goes to find dinner.

Two Pantoran males, more heavily muscled than most others dressed as they are, in business suits, follow him.

They don't see him smile as he walks. 

~+~+~+~+~+

After a tour of the vessel, as well as being able to watch Lassa Rhayme go all 'captain-y' on her crew for, one, going after her vessel in the first place when she had told them to do nothing, and two, getting their asses kicked by a 'little girl in a space-yacht,' she is finally introduced to the young woman who is charged with the protection of Stornan.

Ahsoka takes a moment to Smirk at the last part, as well as their attempt to explain that they had heard that their Captain needed to steal a ship for that crazy Mando.

Ahsoka smiles at the non-crazy Mando standing before her. A beautiful, burnished bronze-skinned woman, with at the moment, hard dark eyes that examine the warrior from a vantage point lower than her own. Hard eyes that soften and envelope the huntress in a warm, but wary gaze.

She is struck by that guarded look that the young woman has when they finally shake hands. A look of pain, and a look of concern. Concern not for herself, but for her people.

"Tehlen, why don't you give me a little background on what is going on." Ahsoka says as they sit down in the Captain's quarters. She waits for Lassa to pour the three of them a shot of the precious Tevraki whisky that is her pride. 

"Stornan has only been settled for about ten years, now. This is the only town of any size; as you'll be able to tell when you go down, everything is pretty pre-fab. The people are hard-working, farmers mostly. They represent all of the major clans and few of the minor ones. We didn't feel like there was a lot of opportunity on _Manda'yaim._ Between the political upheaval with the Duchess's rule and Death Watch, we wanted to go somewhere and live out our lives in peace. Or at least where we could be left alone," she says with dark look.

"We mostly lived in peace among the clans. We had a council that was selected from the best of us, regardless of clan. I was appointed protector, because, even though I was a relative newcomer, I was trained as an apprentice Protector before...." She takes a sip of her drink, then downs it.

"Before the Sieges," Ahsoka finishes gently. Tehlen nods. She narrows her eyes. "You were there, weren't you? You fought for Mandalore."

Ahsoka looks away. She cannot meet Tehlen's eyes as the ashes pierce her senses, especially her taste. "It was a long time ago," she whispers, avoiding her question. Ahsoka Tano, for all intents and purposes, had died on Mandalore, along with her best friend, Captain Rex of the 501st.

She notices that both Tehlen and Lassa are scrutinizing her. "So what happened here?" she asks. Tehlen continues to look at her with a questioning look, but she continues.

"Everything changed when we found the gas. Overnight, our population almost doubled. We begin to fight among ourselves. Those of us who could step outside and see the forest for the trees, were afraid of what would happen when the Empire decided that they needed the gas."

"There were some, a small group, who wanted the Empire to come in. So that they would be on the 'winning' side and would reap the benefits." Her eyes flash. "Those were mostly from Clan Saxon and a couple of others from House Vizla."

"Others of us wanted to resist the Empire to make sure that everyone on the planet would reaped those benefits from the gas and royalties."

"I heard about a movement in the galaxy that could help us. That is when we contacted you. To see if you could help us to resist."

"Somebody from the other faction contacted the Wrens and the Death Watch remnant. They are gradually pushing us out."

"Are you united in your desire to throw the Wrens out?"

"Not really. There are some who want a more active resistance; no matter what the cost; others who don't want to fight; who want to wait and see what happens."

Ahsoka is silent for a few moments; as she sips her drink. "Tehlen, I hate to tell you this, but I don't know if we can help you. We are a small movement, trying not to call attention to ourselves, so that we can grow and be strong enough to attack the Empire," she says gently.

She sees the anger grow in the young Mando'ade's eyes. "Then what the fuck good are you, _Fulcrum?_ We are willing to fight the Empire, now. We want to take back our world from their lackeys. To have something for ourselves. For our children." Her dark eyes lance Ahsoka with their anger. "I know who you are, Fulcrum. I watched you fight for us. You and your clones. I saw the pain in your eyes when you couldn't save our world. When your troops turned on you and tried to slaughter you. All but one."

Ahsoka is shocked. Her own eyes flash at the Mando. "Why can't you help us? Do you know what a Jedi could do against these assholes? Somebody told me that they once saw you decapitate eight _Kyrt'sad_ with one stroke of your lightsabers." She stops as she hears the young woman whisper something.

She stops at the grin. "What?" Tehlen demands. "Four. It was only four," Ahsoka repeats quietly. "I am not a Jedi," she says with emphasis.

Tehlen's anger dissipates as her energy runs down. "I know what you are going through, _Len'ika_ ," the warrior says. Tehlen Skirata and Lassa Rhayme both look on in amazement as they realize Fulcrum is speaking in flawless Mando'a with a hint of the southern hemisphere.

_"I have seen it on a dozens of worlds. People who are willing to fight. To die. But that is all they will do if they are not unified. This will take many years. Maybe even a lifetime, or several lifetimes to complete." Her eyes drill into the young woman. "I may not live to see it through. But I will fight."_

Lassa sees Tehlen and Talle's eyes grow sad at the last, matter-of-fact statement. She makes a note to ask the Protector what was said.

"But we have to do it smart," she says, switching to Basic again. "We have to take it slow. I will go down to the planet and see what is happening. I have to get my operative out of there. I am not leaving him behind." She sees Talle smile; she suddenly connects the girl's name with her own memory. Of another with a similar name.

Tehlen smiles at the small voice that emanates from the young girl. A single word. 

_Mandokar._

The essence of what it means to be a Mandalorian. She nods. "Fulcrum, we may already have bigger problems. There was one hard-liner. She just got there. She spoke of another rebel faction. One that may be more extreme. Something tells me that she was in contact with them."

Ahsoka notices that she keeps to the code-name, rather than using the name she might know from the past. "I'll worry about that when it comes to it."

"Take heart, _Len'ika._ I will be fair and try to figure out the best solution."

Tehlen stands up. "I know you will, Fulcrum. But I don't have to like it if you come up with the wrong one." She surprises the younger woman and pulls her into a tight embrace. Ahsoka returns it.

Ahsoka slumps in her chair as the Protector leaves. Lassa looks on her, her eyes pained. Talle watches her. Lassa pours her glass full. Ahsoka Smirks and downs it.

Lassa takes her hand in her own. "You're already figuring out how you can blame yourself when the poodoo hits the intake. I know you, girl. I have only met one other as self-sacrificing and ready to blame themselves when things go wrong. Even though it isn't even remotely your fault."

She holds her hands over Talle's ears. "We have both slept with him," she whispers sadly.

Ahsoka snorts. "There is a certain responsibility, Lassa. It comes with what we are."

"Well, as you frequently remind everybody, you're not a Jedi anymore."

"Still have the responsibility. And I am alone, now."

Talle reaches over and takes her other hand. "You got me," the girl says. Ahsoka smiles softly. "I think that I know who you were named for, sweetie. That is enough for me."

"My _buir_ says I was named for his _Vod_ ," is all that she says.

Ahsoka can only take the little girl in her arms. She closes her eyes, so that neither Lassa or the girl will see her tears.

_She is Ahsoka Tano. Fulcrum. She does not cry._

~+~+~+~+~+

Bryne Covenant, once a knight in the Jedi Order, hunt-brother in the Togruta hunt-culture, husband, and about to be a father before another world came crashing down, steps out of the elevator in the high-rise apartment building. He walks to the door with the number on it. He takes a deep breath and puts on his reporter face.

He is about to push a button to ring the door chime when his Force sense burbles with a warning. He smiles. _Well, I am either saved by the bell, or going to be pissed that these assholes interrupted my evening._

He turns. "Bryne Covenant?" the smartest-looking of the four bruisers in suits asks." He is surprised that they know his true name. 

_Or at least another alias._ He decides to play it stupid. He suppresses the voices in his head. "Nope. Mace Mundi. I am a reporter."

"Save it, asshole. We got your ugly mug off of the CrimeNet security officers' database. We know you are CorSec. You need to come with us," the suited man says.

"Oh, yeah? Why is that?"

"You been asking some questions about some important people. We want to know why."

"I am assuming that your inability to say anything without attempting to sound threatening, that you are security of some type. Well, unless you are going to arrest me, then I will continue with this important meeting I am about to have."

The four bruisers smirk. "Much as we would like to hear the details of your little meeting with this Senatorial asshole, I am afraid that we must insist."

Covenant starts to turn back to the door. As he does, his world turns upside down and is torn inside out by waves of force against his body. He collapses, unable to move.

The three junior thugs pick him up and take him back to the elevator. One laughs as his head strikes the elevator door housing. The senior thug places the Trandoshan stun disk back in his pocket.

As the door closes, Teon Jinks looks out just in time to see Covenant disappear. His expression is hard as he pulls out his own comm. "Senator," he says as it connects. "We have a problem. A bigger problem."

~+~+~+~+~+

The hooded figure stands in the shadows of the deep morning, away from the glare of a street lamp. She watches the small building where Tehlen had told her that Balor was most likely being held. She notes the dozen or so guards around the building, with more that she can sense through her gift inside the building and in the surrounding buildings.

Her expression is hard as she tries to look for vulnerabilities. 

There seems to be none, as the guard force are disciplined and their exchanges are staggered.

She senses a disturbance, an instant before an explosion in a building next to the makeshift jail rocks the entire block. She manages to keep her feet, but several of the guards are down. 

As are several bystanders. Her eyes grow wide, and then angry as she sees figures stream into the street and open fire on the Mandos.

The interlopers are dressed in a motley array of armor and clothing. From her vantage point, she can see that they come from a variety of species and that their weapons are well cared for.

_They don't seem to be much in the way of fire discipline. Or even big on choosing targets.  
_

Her heart flips and she is instantly transported to another world as she sees someone she had never thought to see again.

Someone who had meant a great deal to her. A great deal to a friend. A friend now dead because of her own failure. 

She sees the figure standing behind his fighters, watching the attack.

Waiting for his moment.


	9. Chaos Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least two bringers of chaos try to calm the situation on Stornan, brought by less scrupulous bringers of chaos.

Ahsoka Tano watches the unknown marauders continue to attack the small building. Bodies on both sides are piling up, as well as those who have no standing in the fight. She can feel her anger growing; growing to the heights that Yoda and others had warned her and her fellow Padawans about. 

She pushes the vision of the man that she once knew out of her mind. She centers herself; tries to calm her anger and pain at the death and destruction. 

Death and destruction apparently caused by the forces of that man from her past. She makes up her mind. Her hands reach to the rescued lightsabers at her waist. She still needs to get Balor out of the hands of the Death Watch wannabes in the building.

 _Hopefully one group of assholes can keep the other assholes busy,_ she thinks. She looks between the two groups of combatants. She sees a woman crouching behind an overturned aircar. Her eyes widen as she sees the two small children crouched under the mother. 

A male lies unmoving near them. She can hear the screams of the children over the blaster fire. She sees that the aircar is absorbing the fire from the attackers. She moves her hands from the sabers and reaches out, closing her eyes. She focuses on the makeshift shield of the vehicle.

Ahsoka concentrates. She visualizes the car moving towards her. Slowly. Very slowly.

A part of her can sense in her mind's eye the confusion of the woman and children. They see their shield moving away. The mother looks over towards Ahsoka's position. They cannot see her, but she is sure they can see her hands. Two of her fingers twitch towards herself. The mother nods in understanding. She sees the woman scoop up the smallest child in her arms and grab the older one by the hand. She crouches and starts to crab-walk towards the ex-Jedi's position.

The car continues to move with them, shielding them from the attackers, at least. 

Ahsoka's teeth clench as she senses several of the Death Watch soldiers running towards the refugees. She opens herself more. She can feel the vibration of the energy flowing through her. She moves her left hand, slightly. 

The mother screams as a wave of force knocks the charging Mando interlopers back nearly ten meters.

The mother looks at Ahsoka as they reach the cover of other buildings. The woman nods to her. She turns and is quickly gone with her children.

Ahsoka shoves the aircar through the streets towards the fresh attackers. Her lightsabers fly into her hand and ignite. She charges towards the building. Her opposite arms deflect bolts from both sides.

She makes sure that they are deflected back at the source. She hears cries of pain from both sides.

For once, Ahsoka Tano is not concerned at the pain inflicted by her deflected bolts.

She continues to run. An armored figure jumps in front of her and fires a blaster at her head. She blocks the bolt and swings her right lightsaber. The Death Watch fighter screams as the blaster falls to the ground. Her left saber crosses and sends a blaster bolt back to the other attackers.

The blaster is on the ground. Along with the hand grasping it. She jumps to the shoulder of the soldier and pushes off into a Force jump to the roof of the building.

 _Hold on, big guy,_ she thinks. _I'm coming._

The watcher's gaze widens as he sees her leap. The figure is hooded, with a taller than normal peak to the hood. His memory stirs from his past. The graceful movement; the power of the twin lightsaber moves strikes his frozen heart.

He closes his eyes for a moment as the memories flow through him. The sights flow out of sequence. The memories of seeing a woman falling to her death. Of a young woman trying to grab her with the mystical energy field that she commands. He hears the scream of the girl as she is struck in the back. 

He opens his eyes; dispersing the memory. His eyes set in their hardness.

~+~+~+~+~+

Drop comes awake slowly. He is able to peek through one open eye at his surroundings. He realizes he is no longer chained to the wall.

The large warrior tries to move his arms and legs. Everything seems to work, except for his left arm. The arm refuses to move. Broken bones sometimes preclude movement.

All other extremities work, but like the left arm are a mass of pain and firing nerve endings.

Neither Lucre, nor Tommis had shown any interest in asking him questions. Lucre had been a great proponent of electricity and small pointy objects.

Not surprisingly, Tommis relied on his fists and feet. Despite his pain, Drop, the fighter known by a variety of names, focuses on two faces.

A beautiful Chalactan face, her smile powerful in its brilliance, looks at him, her eyes sad. The other face is smaller. A mixture of his face and hers. 

His eyebrows raise, causing fresh pain. The other face doesn't belong to Talle. Her face is more of his, tempered by the softness of her mother's.

This child is smaller. She is all Elle, with maybe a touch of his eye-shape.

His heart seizes as he realizes the possibilities. A smile flows across his battered features; his lips quirking upward unconsciously in a crooked grin. A grin that he has seen on his brother many times.

Drop steels himself. He rolls over on to his back, from the fetal position that he had woken to.  
_Come on, asshole,_ he thinks. _Still have things to do. People to find and make sure that they are safe._

He feels the floor vibrate with explosions. He can just make out the sound of blasterfire in the distance. Outside of the building. He realizes that his hearing is impaired; that everything sounds as if it is from deep within a cushioned pillow.

Unaccountably, a light voice pierces his consciousness. A voice that he has not heard in years. A voice last heard in a dim lower level of Coruscant. _Hold on, big guy,_ he hears. _I'm coming._

The two guards that come to check on him both wonder at the smile on his unconscious face.

They wonder until he explodes off of the floor at them.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka's arms begin to tire slightly. _Really need to find the time to practice. Several thousand lightsaber swings per day wouldn't come amiss._ She curses at the thought as they bring back memories of two different young teachers' voices, in two different cadences ensuring that she made every swing. Both voices filled with humor, love, and respect.

Each voice representing a different part of her life.

A lance of pain in her left arm brings her thoughts to the hear and now. She hears the two voices overlaid. _Come on Snips. Focus._

_Hey, Runt. It's okay to think with your lightsaber at this particular moment._

The vibroblade that had slipped through her guard as she journeyed to her past in her mind lies on the ground in front of the building. Along with the fingers of the attacker that had wielded it.

In spite of the pain and the warm sensation of blood running down her arm, she smiles at the memories.

She sees the door to the building; two more Death Watch soldiers have engaged two of the attackers in a two-on-two gunfight. 

She Smirks as she runs through the middle of the firefight. 

Four more attackers hit the ground, clutching various extremities from deflected blaster bolts. Armored forms clutch the joints of their suits, where the bolts have flown with uncanny accuracy.

She hears one of the voices again. _Okay, Runt. Maybe you can do okay without the thousand swings per day._

The other voice is just as dry. _Maybe only every other day, Snips._

Two of her fingers rise from the hilt of her lightsaber. The door slams open from an unseen force. 

Two steps and she is in the building. Smoke and dust permeate her senses. She reaches out with the Force; she can hear creaks and groans in the joints and walls of the building from another preternatural sense she was born with.

She realizes that the building may collapse at any time. Her eyes widen as she feels pain through the energy field.

Pain easing as its energy is put through more force. Blunt force applied to the faces of at least two Mandos.

She smiles as she feels the definite Force signature of one of her millions of brothers. _One who has survived. One who lives and is free._ She feels none of the madness she had felt on Mandalore as she fought for her life and another brother's.

Her eyes tear as she reaches deeper into the sense of the being. Another of her nicknames comes through from the large presence.

_Mouse._

Her joy grows as she rushes towards the presence. It falls as the ceiling and walls crack and collapse around her. Two words, an expression that had gotten her into much trouble with a Corellian's Master, even though the Corellian had taught her the words.

_Well, shit._

~+~+~+~+~

Drop finishes applying force to the throat of the last guard in his cell with his powerful legs. His uninjured arm releases the other guard; the guard's head is at a strange angle from the rest of his body. The Null pulls himself up the wall of the cell. He shakes his head as he looks down at himself. _Could use a little protection around the waist._ He grins as he looks down at one of the _beskar'gam_ -clad fighters. He reaches down and yanks the leather _kama_ from around the waist. 

He reverses it and fastens it around his waist. An expression that he had heard from a brother flows to his inner voice. _Ask and ye shall receive._

He shakes his head as he hears the same brother's voice. _Well, at least your brain is covered._

He moves out of his cell as fast as his body will allow. The building shakes and vibrates more. He doesn't need a Force-sense to know that his would-be rescuers might give him as much pain as Lucre and Tommis.

His eyes brighten. _All, save one._ His Fulcrum. His memories flow of a powerful young woman, comfortable in her power. Comfortable in her love and respect for he and his _Vod'e._ _Her care._

A Death Watch soldier jumps out at him. Another quick twist and the attacker falls. He seizes the helmet and pulls it over his head. Fortunately, it fits. Sort of. His muzzy hearing focuses on the screams and transmission over the _buy'ce's_ comlink.

_Multiple attackers from all sides! Somebody get that damned lightsaber wielder. They're cutting both sides apart. The prisoner is gone! Find him. He can't get far!_

One transmission cuts through all of them. A female voice, measured, but with authority. "Get the clone. That is your priority. Second priority is the _jetti'kad_ wielder. She appears to be a Togruta female. I want her alive, or I want her head-tails in my hands in twenty minutes. Move to Rally-point _Besh_ ," Lucre finishes.

Drop manages to access the HUD on the Mando bucket. He smiles as he sees the location of Rally-point _Besh_. A small cafe located not far from the jail. The unofficial Protector's headquarters. A place where a powerful warrior in her own right fulfilled her duties. Duties to a people and a world that probably didn't appreciate her work.

He picks up the soldier's weapon and turns to leave the failing building. He laughs at what his love and his brother would say if they could see him right now. Of their bright laughter at the sight of him dressed only in a Mando helmet and a _kama,_ with an old and reliable DC-15S in his hands.

His thoughts are bright as he contemplates the day that they can laugh about it. _Hopefully with a smartass young Togruta looking at his brother with that damned Smirk on her face._

_Faith and hope._

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka hears a cacophony of voices and sounds in her head as she tries to unscramble her brain and stand. She realizes that her hands are held out above her and her upper body is balanced a few inches above the ground; bent almost all the way back.

The remains of the walls and ceiling are resting above her hands with only a few inches of air above her protesting body.

She closes her eyes and focuses on her mystical friend. She pushes. As the rubble explodes outward, she pops up to her feet. 

Her montrals collide with the remainder of the ceiling. As she opens her eyes, she realizes that she has popped up in the center of a group of Death Watch soldiers.

Without hesitation, she thrusts out again with the Force. Four of the fighters slam into the remains of the nearest wall. Their bodies collapse under their own weight. Ahsoka begins to look about for her lightsabers as the remaining five open fire on her.

Her feet connect with the nearest two as she balances on her hands. The fighters' momentum carries them into the blaster fire of the other three. She ends the kick with a flip to within six centimeters of another. 

A punch to the gut under the armor plate relieves him of the air in his lungs. A yank with the Force and his WESTAR flies into her hands. A squeeze of the trigger and the last Death Watch fighter dies.

She whips around as several large staves strike her. The blaster falls from her nerveless fingers as the electroshock is applied. 

Several newcomers, dressed in a collection of rags and armor surround her, all with blasters or staves. All save one. A figure in beskar'gam; armor decorated with various charms and tokens, that give the appearance of tattoos on skin stands watching her.

Ahsoka can feel the anger rolling off of the figure. Ahsoka fights off the effects of the stave and rushes towards the armored figure. Several staves connect with her back as she does. Her entire being lights up with pain.

The young huntress fights her way through the light and the agony and continues to charge towards the apparent leader. She starts to feel the bite of stun bursts from blasters; the concentric rings striking her repeatedly.

Her hands reach the chest of the Mando-clad fighter. The warrior raises their blaster and fires a stun bolt straight at her face. Ahsoka manages to jink her head to the right.

Ahsoka collapses to her hands and knees; she shakes her head to fight off the darkness. Her body screams with pain as she starts to feel kicks and blows raining down on her.

She fights to her knees only; to get up. She sees the Mando touch the helmet and raise it. A young woman's sharp-featured face, several tattoos on her neck, stares down at her with angry blue-green eyes, under a cap of short black hair..

An evil smile creases the woman's face. Ahsoka finds herself staring into the muzzle of the woman's blaster, yet again.

A burst of blue fire to her face and she collapses. The darkness swallows her. The last thing that she sees is the young woman's face staring down at her.

~+~+~+~+~+

Drop is moving much faster as his body frees itself from the stiffness and pain. He has already made good use of the very familiar blaster as he moves towards the exit. Several Death Watch loyalists lay dead in his path; already taken out. He smiles as he remembers a statement from a young woman when he had first called her 'Little Mouse.' _Careful big guy. Clawmice still bite._

_This one certainly still does._

Drop stops short as he hears blasterfire behind him. A couple of small, quick cries sound in his senses. Cries in a remembered voice. _If she is crying out; intense pain is involved._ He nods and turns around, his blaster held at the ready. 

He begins to swiftly advance, his HUD marking threats as he moves down the corridor. He slides around a corner, just in time to duck several blaster bolts at his head. He ducks and lays down his own fire.

He checks it as he sees a hooded figure being dragged down the corridor by unknown forces. A figure in Mando armor is directing the rabble dragging the body. A blue and white lek flops out from under the hood. His eyes widen. He starts to charge and is brought up short again by blaster fire from the opposite direction.

He turns to meet that threat. Several Mandos have opened fire on him, but are stopped by a commanding presence in burnished armor, with strong, bare arms nearly the same hue. The figure yanks its _buy'ce_ off, revealing the beautiful face of Tehlen Skirata. "Hey, hardhead. Nice skirt. Matches the bucket."

"No time, girl,'' he says. "Somebody has grabbed Fulcrum."

"Death Watch?" she asks. "Nope," he replies. "New players."

"Great," is all that she says. "Come on, darlin'," he says. "Let's figure out what we are up against."

They turn and exit the building.

~+~+~+~+~+

The tall watcher's eyes narrow as he sees his soldiers dragging the young woman from his past away. They are none too gentle, but he cannot say that he blames them, after the fight that she put up against both his soldiers and the enemy.

Of the bodies, both living and otherwise, that she had stacked up in her search for whatever it was in this building that she was looking for.

He is fairly certain that what she was looking for, was perfectly capable of doing as much damage as she. 

His metal-shod feet clink against two metal objects, half-buried under the ground and rubble, He reaches down as best as he can in his own armor and touches cold metal.

Cold metal objects with a touch of her warmth and passion. He smiles wolfishly as he hangs the two lightsabers on his belt. He will return them to her when she awakes.

If she is alive then. She still has to survive Rhose's tenderness and questioning.

Saw Gerrera smiles as she thinks of two young women butting heads.

He turns and follows the caravan out. _Plenty of time to return the sabers. My money is on Ahsoka. Always._


	10. Chaos Unbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two meetings. One between old comrades, and one between protectors and idiots.
> 
> Both indicate who the adult supervision is, in each instance.

Ahsoka Tano screams. As she moves through the mists of pain and unconsciousness, she is transported back in time. She sees herself in a flowing blue gown and a gold headdress, holding a lightsaber on a queen.

A slaver queen who responds by pushing a button. A button that sends agony throughout her younger, smaller body. She is transported to a cage, hanging above a city. A male of the queen's same species pushes another button sending more agony through her body.

The same thought comes through her mind in memory as at the time. _I really should've pushed the bastard all the way off of the roof._

Another jolt of pain brings her to the present. She opens her eyes and sees yet another demented face taking great pleasure in her pain.

A younger face than the other two. She clinches her teeth against the firing nerve endings. She looks around at her surroundings. She is strapped upright to a table, her arms spread outward.

An idle thought comes to her mind unbidden. _Do these d'kuhts carry a scan-grid around with them, or was there one already here?_ She sends the thought away as she continues to analyze her predicament.

Her body is pushed against an electrical device that sparks and sends current through her at the press of a button. A button held in the hands of a young woman in Mando armor. A suit dappled with what appear to be facsimiles of tattoos. She is struck by the beauty of the aquamarine eyes staring at her with glee.

She shakes that thought away. _Come on, Tano. You're not into pain. Focus._

The young huntress moves her mind through the fog and wall of pain. She sees the mystical energy field that is her birthright in the distance. For some reason, it flashes green, purple, and gold at her. She concentrates; the pain nearly overwhelming her.

The wall snaps. She touches the tricolored glow. A feeling of warmth flows through her. The pain recedes behind her. It becomes more distant as the warmth of the colors suffuses her body. She concentrates on the young woman, the scan-grid, and the button.

She does allow the feeling of brief triumph as the aquamarine eyes flash with pain as the electrical energy from the device flows through the button and the hand holding it.

 _It is not very Jedi-like to gloat over an enemy's pain,_ comes to her mind in a cacophonous echo of many voices, as the woman flies backward across the room.

The woman pulls herself up, her eyes dismantling Ahsoka. She drops the now useless button as she sees the smoking ruin of the shorted-out torture device. 

"Bitch," the young human screams. She quickly moves over to Ahsoka. Another lance of pain moves through her body from her left arm, as her tormentor jams her fingers into the open vibroknife wound.

Ahsoka again pushes the pain away. A finger on her opposite hand twitches and the armored woman again flies back.

The woman immediately jumps up and seizes a blaster from one of the guards. She places the muzzle against Ahsoka's forehead markings. The Smirk on the young ex-Jedi's face infuriates her more. She pulls the trigger.

Nothing happens. The aquamarine eyes flash as she pulls back the charging handle and repeats the move. The Smirk impossibly widens.

"It just ain't working for you, honey, is it?" comes a brighter voice than should from the Togruta.

Rhose Zan Arbor reverses the blaster and raises it to bring down on her head. "Let's see how this works, 'honey,' when your face is a bloody pulp," she says through her teeth.

"Stop."

A soft voice cuts through the tableau. Ahsoka's memory and heart flip at the deep voice.

Apparently, the young woman holding the blaster doesn't know when to quit.

Her eyes fix through a startled expression, after a burst of light and noise. Ahsoka smiles as the blue concentric ring touches her tormentor's back and head.

The young woman's angry eyes roll back and she collapses. 

Saw Gerrera looks at her with sad eyes and shakes his head in a tiny movement, as he holsters the smoking blaster. His eyes, under the unfamiliar shaven head, rise to Ahsoka. Pain and memory, joy and sadness flash over his face, through the eyes that seem to change color with the light. At this moment, they are suffused with a dark warmth.

"Hello, Ahsoka," he says. "It is good to see you alive, Jedi."

Before she can reply, he turns to the nearest minion. "Get her off that damned thing. Take her to my quarters. Let her get cleaned up. Dress her wound. She is our guest, not our prisoner." He pulls the two lightsabers off of his belt and places them on hers. His fighters' eyes widen.

"But she....."

"Do as I say," he shouts. "Be glad that she didn't kill you all."

Ahsoka slumps in the arms of the two fighters that take her off of the table.

~+~+~+~+~+

Drop grits his teeth as he listens to blathering from two of the collection of idiots that make up the Stornan Committee of Public Safety.

Small hands rub their thumbs on the bunched muscles in his neck. Small hands connected to a small copy currently riding on his shoulders.

Talle had not shown any willingness to let go of him since Tehlen had brought him back to a hiding spot on a small farm outside of the main settlement.

 _Well, after she had stopped laughing at his clothing ensemble,_ he thinks ruefully. He is now clad in his own clothes, retrieved from their ship. 

He tunes back in. ".....I think that we should send all of these outsiders away. Let Stornan take care of Stornan," says the sallow-faced representative of Clan Merrik of Kalevala. Drop had forgotten his name; had merely started referring to him in his head as 'Idiot _Aurek.'_

Tehlen is much less tactful. "Yeah, we've done so well with that as it is."

Auric's eyes flash dangerously, as he grows a little less colorless. "You mean, you've done so well, Skirata."

Tehlen stands and walks within a few centimeters. She is only a tiny bit shorter than he is. Her presence, her weapons, and her powerful arms make him take a step back. "As I recall, you begged me to take this job so that one of the assholes that invited Death Watch in wouldn't get it. One of the other Vizlas. If you think you can do a better job, then you are welcome to this goddammed piece of tin."

Another idiot, this one identified as Idiot _Besh_ by a giant, but slightly less idiotic than the other ones, steps between them. "Stand down, both of you," she says in quiet but powerful voice. "This is getting us nowhere."

Tehlen doesn't move. Merrik backs away even further and sits down. _Besh_ nods to Tehlen. "Please continue, Protector." 

"We asked Fulcrum to come here," the young woman says. "Now she has gone missing. I, for one, will be helping to find her and if she is a prisoner, will free her. I feel like my honor owes that much to her." She looks down, then fixes the two idiots with a stare. "She came here without any thought for reward. She came here because we asked for help. Now she is in danger. The same for Balor," she says gesturing at Drop and his battered face and body, "he wasn't that pretty before he got captured by the Wrens. That little girl, who I think has more guts than any of you combined, is his life." She walks over to Drop stands on her tiptoes to kiss Talle on the cheek.

" _Ner vod_ ," she whispers to Drop. " _Ner vod'ika._ " to the smaller, but no less fierce warrior.

She turns to the other two. "You gave me permission to find help. I made the decision, because none of you were very helpful, to look for someone that might assist us to keep what is ours without bringing the Imps down on us."

 _Aurek_ raises his upper lip in a sneer. "So you brought clones and pirate scum to 'help' us. These mercenaries will only steal what is ours."

Eyes turn towards Lassa Rhayme, who is leaning laconically against a table. She unfolds her frame and stands. She walks over and looks down on Aurek. "Little man, I may be a mercenary, and pirate scum, but I was only paid to get the big guy here out. Getting my friend out, who I love like a sister, is free. Whatever services I perform for you to get her out is free. But if you like, I will send your ass a bill for my time spent outside of those two things, for my lost income."

She never raises her voice. Her bronze eyes impart the force of her soft words. The Merrik turns and walks away. 

"So are we going to get support to attack Death Watch or any other intruders to get Fulcrum back?"

Neither of the two say anything. Tehlen slams her fist down on the table. "Goddammit, somebody say something."

 _Besh_ looks at her. "There are only two of us here. We need more to make the decision."

Lassa smiles. "Here I was, thinking that Mandalorians could rule and make decisions. Must be those New Mandalorians I hear about."

Neither of the two representatives rise. _Great_ , Drop thinks. _Guess we'll have the rest of the Aurebesh in here._

Tehlen snorts in contempt. "It is a dark day when people that you call 'scum' and 'clones,' have more honor and courage than you two." She looks at Drop and Lassa. "I know what honor and courage look like. They stand here before me. They are possibly lying dead in one of our streets or buildings, or waiting for someone to help her get out."

She signals Lassa and Drop to follow her. As they are away from the others, Lassa touches Tehlen on the arm. "I don't need my ego massaged, or my honor defended, but I do thank you for the words, sweetie," she says. "Yeah," Drop adds. "Made me all warm inside."

Tehlen rolls her eyes and punches him on unbruised skin. Lassa and Talle laugh. Lassa gazes at the Protector. "As much as you are trying to avoid it; to avoid being accused of bringing in more trouble, you are going to need your boyfriend and whatever hardasses he can scare up from his past."

"Can you get them, Captain?"

Lassa nods. "I think that we can do that. What is in it for me?"

Tehlen smirks and looks at Talle. She rolls her eyes and puts her hand over her ears. "I might consider sharing him with you, if you feel you need him. He is semi-useful."

Lassa laughs. "Might just need to, Protector. Although I have already had a half-Shysa between my thighs. Managed to keep the boredom away." Their shared laughter lightens the mood. A mischievous look plays over Lassa's blue features. "Of course, it might be even more worth my while if you were thrown in the mix."

Tehlen looks thoughtful as Lassa turns and leaves with that. 

"Thanks for coming after my _buir,"_ Talle says, as she pulls her hands from her ears. "You are always welcome, sweetie." Tehlen says, warmly. The young woman looks at Drop. She places her hands on his cheeks. "You are everything my uncle ever expected, Tarre," she says. She reaches up and kisses him. "I hope that you find your love," she says softly. "She is an incredibly lucky woman."

"I am the lucky one." His eyes narrow. "That is the second time that you have called me that, girl. Why?"

"You may remember that my uncle, the _Kalbuir,_ named all of his Nulls. His sons. He gave them names from Mandalorian history and culture."

She smiles. "You were no exception, Drop." His eyes widen. "He named you for Tarre Vizla. The first Mandalorian Jedi. The man who gave us the Darksaber. He said that of all of his Nulls, you alone had the heart of a Mandalorian warrior, but also the soul of a Jedi."

His eyes close. Talle hugs his neck tighter. "He never told me this," he says. 

_"Buir_ Tarre," his daughter says simply.

For once, Drop has no comeback or reply.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka Tano lets the hot shower play over her skin as she tries to calm the nerve endings from the electrical assault and the bruising from the beatings she had endured over the last five hours. She smiles as she thinks of her last hot shower; of Riyo Chuchi's hands on her skin and her lips on the Pantoran's. 

An offer from another Pantoran had also fostered memories and warmth. She stretches under the water and places her hands on her neck under her rear lek. The door opens. The young woman who had inflicted much of the injuries on her walks through the door. She is now clad in a tank top and leggings, rather than her full armor. The tattooed talismans that had marked her armor can now be seen on her skin from the neck down. She carries a tray of medical supplies. She stands in the middle of the fresher and sets the tray down. Her narrowed, cold eyes look Ahsoka up and down as she turns the water off.

There doesn't seem to be any lust or appreciation in the cold-eyed gaze. Only an angry smirk. "If you're finished masturbating, I have been instructed to dress and clean your wound." the young woman says.

"Don't worry, darling. I wasn't thinking of you," Ahsoka says. "I am not into S&M." Rhose looks as if she is going to say something, but stops at Ahsoka's challenging look.

She shuts the water off and steps out of the shower. She pulls the small towel from the rack and looks at, guessing at its cleanliness.

She pulls on her shirt and leggings as soon as she is dry. She sits on the small bunk. Rhose finishes her medical work swiftly and efficiently. She yanks a little harder than necessary on the bandage, but Ahsoka says nothing.

"Thank you," is all that she says. A sneer twists the thin features of the young woman again. Ahsoka rolls her eyes as the killer leaves.

"You really shouldn't needle her, girl. She can be dangerous," comes a deep voice at the door.

"So can I," Ahsoka says. 

He smiles. "I noticed. You owe me about fifteen fighters."

"Maybe if they had asked first and shot second, they might be alive or useful to you."

Saw Gerrerra walks on in. He is followed by two of his troops carrying trays of food. The two motley rebels place the trays on the table and leave. Saw lifts the tops off, releasing a fragrant smell of cooked meat.

"I remembered how you ate from the last time we fought together. Eat up, carnivore," he says with a wry smile.

They eat in companionable silence. Ahsoka can tell that he has a million questions.

Her curiosity is not exactly on the back burner. She watches him as he eats. He has changed so much. It has only been a little over six years since they had seen each other and fought together. In that time, Saw seems to have aged two for each of those years. The cocky, self-assured young man had been replaced by a man old before his time.

A leader born of care, tragedy, and adversity.

She chooses to ignore his scrutiny. 

He smiles as he watches her. The impossibly young, but powerful warrior still has the appearance of youth, but her powerful blue eyes speak of their own care and trial. Her gangly figure has grown into one of pure athletic grace; her face has begun the process of winnowing down the round face of her mid-to-late teens. The facial markings and the blue chevrons of her lekku have begun to change subtly with her growth.

Her montrals are taller and have begun to turn, as he had once read of an adult of her species. Something he had read on a datapad, while admiring her on his homeworld.

He grins. _Like a lovestruck teenager seeing something he had never seen before._

He notices her watching him, with the powerful Smirk that he had seen before, usually when that idiot Bonteri did something stupid trying to impress Steela.

He had wondered who Ahsoka was trying to impress; who was actually causing the angst on the young woman's face.

He remembered her master, Anakin Skywalker, repeating to Ahsoka - _purpose before feelings._

Something he had learned to live by. _Especially since Steela had died._

"Why are you here, Saw?" she asks, suddenly.

"I am here to help the Stornani fight the Empire."

Her eyes narrow. "Really? Or are you just here to fight the Empire?" she asks.

"What the hell is the difference?" he asks, his anger sparking. "Well, from what I saw out there, it seems like you don't give a damn about the Stornani. Your fighters were hosing their fire around without any care for who or what they were killing."

"Then what are you doing here, Ahsoka?" His eyes flash at her. " _Fulcrum."_

"Same thing you are, Saw. To fight the Empire."

"Funny, all I saw was you fighting my troops." His lips set. "Killing them."

"I am trying to take it slow, Saw. So maybe we can actually grow something that can defeat them, rather than banging my head up against the wall, killing my troops and anyone who gets in the way, and leaving nothing left to claim at the end of the day."

She realizes that she has stood up and her voice has risen. He stands up, as well. "You know, Tano, not everybody is a Jedi. Not everybody has the luxury of coming in, instigating shit, and then leaving, checking in every once in a while. It is going to take killing to end the Empire. Killing whatever needs to be killed in order keep this poison from spreading. Gods know that the Empire is willing to kill for what it wants. We are going to have to do that as well."

She stares at him. "Don't tell me about coming in and leaving. About cost. I have lost my entire family, my entire race, if you want to look at it that way. The people that I learned from and looked up to, yes, in spite of our denial of it sometimes, the people that I loved." Her eyes are steel "You talk about your little attacks and how we have to kill what needs to be killing. Well, I am trying to build something that will bring them down. It will take time, and yes, it will take blood, but at the end of the day, I will be able to say that I built something, not just destroyed it"

Ahsoka looks away. "That is if I am even alive to see it." She shakes her head and curses under her breath. She turns and walks out.

He is silent as his anger calms.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka stalks out from the room. She walks into the common room, where many of Saw's fighters kill time before their next bout of thuggery. Several of them look at her, some with hard looks. A couple start to get up, but are pulled down by their comrades, as they see her look and her hands resting on the lightsaber hilts that Saw had returned.

Rhose Zan Arbor looks at her with a smirk on her lips. Ahsoka turns away.

The door bursts open. "An Imperial Squadron has just jumped in! They're at the outer markers!"

The holonet screen beeps and the Imperial cog appears. An Imperial officer, his face tan and handsome; the very picture of a New Imperial Man, comes onto the holoprojector. He starts to speak, his every word enunciated in the mock Coruscant accent that many have learned to imitate.

"Citizens of Stornan! I am Commander Poken Tait of the Imperial Navy. We are here to protect you. You are ordered to cease hostilities against our Mandalorian allies and surrender all weapons. Furthermore, you are hereby ordered to surrender all known Rebels, such as Saw Gerrera, and the former protector, Tehlen Skirata, for immediate and summary public termination."

The bland face does not change expression. "Failure to comply will result in harsh measures for your world and your people."

Ahsoka turns back the way that she came and runs back to Saw's room.


	11. The Chaos Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imperials and family entanglements. Connections with the past.

Tehlen Skirata restrains herself from running to the _Gauntlet_ assault ship that flares in from its low approach. The hatch opens almost before the ship touches down. She walks over to the assault vessel as Mando fighters in the combat armor of the Protectors step out. One in slightly finer _beskar'gam_ walks slowly behind the Protectors.

The figure lifts its gauntleted and vambraced hands to its _buy'ce_. As the bucket comes off and a pair of warm green eyes are revealed, Tehlen abandons the dignity of her office and runs. The eyes widen as she pulls him into her arms. He pulls his glove off and touches her face an instant before her lips touch his.

They stand together as if the world in which they stand isn't about to burn. When they come up for air, she touches the chestplate of his armor. "You clean up nice. Haven't seen you in this."

His face splits in a crooked smile. "Figured if I served the Protector of Stornan, I should look the part." He inclines his head. "My life is yours, Protector." She starts to say something. 

Instead, she inclines her head in acceptance. As she looks up, Fenn sees a mischievous look on her face. "How about your ass?" she says as her hands move downward.

"That's always been yours, darlin'" he says in his exaggerated Keldabe drawl. "Yeah, well. Be prepared. I kind of promised it to Lassa for going and getting you."

His grin widens. "She might have mentioned it. She did kind of run her hand possessively over it." His eyes crinkle in suppressed laughter. "I serve my Master Protector in whatever way is needed." He kisses her again. "She did mention that you were part of the transaction, as well."

She rolls her eyes. "You'd like that wouldn't you, old man?" 

"Don't know. Don't know if I would have the energy to keep up with the two of you."

His face grows serious. "I'm sorry, Tehlen. I could only scare up a couple of dozen of my Wild _Jaigs_. Couldn't find the rest and Rau has most of them, including the pilots." His eyes grow sad at lost friendships.

She places her fingers over his lips. "It's okay, love. May be a moot point anyway. I can't seem to unite the clans anyway. Plus now I am apparently wanted by the Empire. It may be only a matter of time before I am standing in front of a wall in the square when one of those assholes has betrayed me."

"I will never let that happen, _cyar'ika._ If it does, I'll be standing right next to you," he says. "Tehlen, why do you continue to do it? Come away with me and these hardasses. You're a hell of a fighter, and I would love to wake up next to you every morning on our own ship."

She kisses him again. "I would love that, Fenn, but I can't. I have to finish this." She looks down, resting her forehead against his chest. "I have to finish this," she says in a whisper. "I haven't really ever had a home. The Skiratas aren't really close knit. Kal tried to provide that for me, but with his sons and the war, I was still left out." He runs his fingers through her hair. He can feel her rueful grin against his other hand. "Plus, I have never really finished a fucking thing in my life. I quit the Protectors. I suck at farming. I have to see this through."

"But you don't have to die for these shitheads," he says. They are silent for a moment. "Speaking of our once and future bed-partner, where is she?" Tehlen asks.

He smiles carefully. "With our new neighbors in orbit, we figured it was best for her to stand off and watch. We happened upon this nice Wren ship and a couple of dozen assholes on board. After convincing them of the error of their ways," he says with an arch smile, "we took her in low and slow."

"You really don't like the Wrens, do you?" she says. He looks away. "It is not so much the Wrens. I loved one like a daughter. She and her boy, her unborn boy, died on some old medical station. Slaughtered by the Empire. It nearly destroyed another one who is part of my heart. One who is the only surviving member of my direct bloodline."

He looks into her dark eyes. "I know about unfinished business. Even though I had the fancy title of _Mand'alor_ , I couldn't unite the clans, either. Even behind Satine, who I had my disagreements with. I couldn't find the balance between the new and the old. Mainly because I didn't have that damned glow-stick that our boy Drop's true namesake gave to the clans." He falls silent.

She squeezes him tightly to her as they think about their losses. About unfinished business.

~+~+~+~+~+

_The beautiful young woman; the powerful warrior falls just outside of her grasp. A look of horror flows across the features of her friend and fellow fighter as she tumbles. The pain from the wound in her back and shoulder is nothing to the pain of her failure._

_Time and motion stop as the woman stops in midair. Her blues eyes stare accusingly at her. "Everything that he has done, is your fault. Every innocent that has died in his fight against the Empire is on your head. You made him into what he is. Because you failed. You killed me as sure as you had pushed me off of the cliff yourself. You failed us all!"_

_"Some Jedi!"_

Ahsoka comes awake with a brief scream. Or at least she thinks that she is awake. A three-dimensional representation of the powerful young woman floats above the table. She realizes the name is fresh on her lips.

She raises fully up from where her head had rested on the table. Saw Gerrera watches her. He shuts off the holo projector that he is looking at. He pushes a pitcher of water over to the huntress.

She pours a glass and downs it. She repeats until the pitcher is drained. 

She cannot meet his eye. "Sorry, I fell asleep," she says, sheepishly. "It is okay, Jedi. You looked like you could use it," he replies.

"What did I miss?" She Smirks, "Besides Rhose wanting to send me out in front of your fighters with no weapons and a sign on me that says 'Jedi. Please shoot me first."

He grins. "I might send both of you. It would get rid of two constant pains in my ass," he says, a hint of rare humor in the deep voice.

His eyes fall. "It is okay, Ahsoka. I dream of her every day, too." He shakes his head, comes back to the present. She realizes he is sitting very close to her. His eyes gaze clearly into hers. He takes her hand in his in an easy grip and massages it gently.

Unaccountably, a warmth rises in her heart. In her head. She thinks of her past, of the joys rather than the sorrows. Of three young people learning to stand up and fight for their freedom and others. Of the simple joys of the disabling of a Separatist tank, or a formation of droidekas. Of the laughter at the two males trying to out do one another. 

Of another young female watching with unknown feelings as two of the three grow closer to one another.

Of being on the outside looking in. Of realizing her duty lies elsewhere. With the Order. With her birthright.

An Order that only a few months later would leave her to die. To die as the Order died less than a year later.

The faces of her dead flash before her eyes. Steela is there, foremost in her mind. _Is the dream right? Did my failure cause this?"_

She curses under her breath and shakes her head again. _Thought I put this guilt behind me. To replace it with others._

The sleeping face of a young human male, next to hers on pillow on a pirate ship comes to her mind's eye. Death and destruction pushes that memory away.

She comes back to herself. Saw is looking at her, his own grief on his face. Grief, but with a slight smile on his face at the memories.

"You're thinking about Lux, aren't you?" she says with grin. He laughs. "Yeah, I am. He was such an idiot sometimes," he says. "He wasn't the only one," she says ruefully. She realizes that he is still rubbing her hand.

She doesn't stop him. "You weren't an idiot, Tano. You figured out what you needed to do." He looks down. "Bonteri was an idiot, but he made Steela happy for a brief time. He will always have my love and respect for that."

"Where is he?" she asks. "Don't know. When I left Onderon, he was still the Senator. Trying to do good with what he had."

She nods. He touches her cheek; draws her eyes to his. "You made Steela happy as well. You were a good friend. She loved that you were trying to help our world, even in the face of restrictions by the Council. She told me about looking back when she and the others rescued the king and I and seeing you leap high above the crowd, to rescue General Tandin. She told me it was one of the greatest sights she had ever seen."

He looks down and the back up. "I think she had a crush on you, as well, Ahsoka," he whispers. He sees the pain cross her face. "Don't, Tano. I may have been an ass when she died, but whatever I said or did, I never blamed you for her death. I saw your grief and pain. I see it now."

He stops. "Just don't."

She nods after a long moment. "You know that I can't agree with your tactics here, Saw, or anywhere," she says quietly. "I will oppose you, if I have to."

His eyes flash. "Tano, we cannot fight in half-measures. We have to fight them and hit them hard. With no mercy. Blood will have to be spilled. We can't do what some of your Senatorial friends do and 'fight within the system.' We have to destroy them before they destroy us."

She doesn't allow herself to rise. "I know we can't fight in the Senate, by debate. My job is to capitalize on what they are doing to stall and build a movement. A movement that will be strong and able to fight them on more equal terms. We just can't keep killing innocents. If we use any means necessary, then we are no better than the Empire."

She falls silent. When she looks up, she sees him looking at her. The grief on his face as he thinks about the past again overwhelms her. Just as it overwhelms him. His eyes widen as he looks at her face.

At the grief and pain mirrored on her face. 

No one is sure who makes the first move.

Both realize that their lips are on one another; their mouths melding. Their hands move to each other's faces as they stand. Saw starts to move both of them to the couch as their hands move downward. Ahsoka walks backwards as her hands move down to his chest and fumble at his shirt. 

She realizes that his hands are pulling at the bottom of her shirt.

She starts as the backs of her knees strike the couch. She pulls him around to where she faces the couch.

Like the beginning move, no one is sure who makes the ending move. Ahsoka feels their lips break apart and his hands on her shoulders, as hers goes to his chest. Both sets of hands give a gentle push. They look at each other, trying to catch their breath. He pulls her into a gentle hug.

"No," he whispers. "This is not what we need."

After a moment, she nods. "I think that we would be using our grief for something that neither one of us can handle," she says gently. She hugs him back.

He eases himself out of her embrace. He gazes at her with something like regret.

He turns and walks out of the room.

She places her palm against her forehead. She shakes her head and curses.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lucre and Tommis Wren walk slowly through the small residential neighborhood. They come to a bland, beige building at the end of a street. They are both well cloaked, and more importantly to anyone looking to end Clan Wren's incursion, alone. 

They both stand on either side of the door as Lucre brings her hand to the knocker inset into the door.

The door opens a crack. They both look at one another as an E-11 blaster carbine eases out. 

Along with a pair of eyes covered by eye protection and a data monocle over the right. They walk in as the muzzle is jerked towards them. 

A dark-haired woman sits at the front table. She is dressed in a standard Imperial gray-green uniform. Her dark eyes gaze at them evenly. She stands. Lucre notices that she is taller than the dark-haired woman standing next to her. The resemblance ends there.

The woman is dressed in Imperial Commando armor; her muscled arms bare and crossed over her chest. She radiates controlled fury and strength, despite her diminutive height.

The woman in gray-green is clearly in command, however.

Her eyes hold even less warmth than the other woman. About a dozen or so other commandos and pilots stand at various posts around the room.

"Hello, Tommis," the woman in the standard uniform says. He nods tersely. "Major Antol."

A smile flows to the Major's dark bronze features. "Such warmth Tommis, for your benefactor." She looks at Lucre. Both women appraise each other. "This must be your lovely wife. Won't you introduce us?"

Tommis looks to protest, his eyes flashing anger. He calms. "Lucre Wren, Major Leeza Antol, ISB. My contact in our little project."

The two women shake hands, warily, as if expecting to lose fingers. Antol turns to the powerful woman beside her. "Lieutenant Commander Cantos Lardai, Imperial Fleet Reconnaissance Force, 1st Air Commando. Her pilot-commandos are here to back me up."

A flick of the dark eyes is the only response.

"So, what have you got to report to me, Tommis?" Antol sits again.

"We have hit an unforeseen snag. A bunch of outsiders swooped in and attacked. We've lost a large amount of forces, but we are holding."

"Yes. We are aware that Saw Gerrera's thugs are here. We thought that the vaunted Death Watch commandos could handle them."

"We will. We have more than enough to handle that rabble. Plus whatever the local mob under that Skirata woman can muster."

"Doesn't look like it to me," the commando, Lardai, says.

"What would you know, sweetie?" Lucre says, her voice raising. "Doubt you could do better," she finishes.

"You might want to keep your thoughts to yourself, Blondie," the woman says, her eyes unblinking. "I would have no problem dropping both of you in a heartbeat, without even breaking a sweat."

The women stare at one another. Tommis and Lucre start towards the woman. She doesn't flinch or move. Finally, Antol speaks, "Tommis, you might want to curb your woman. Unlike the two of you, Commander Lardai hasn't failed me. Keep that in mind."

Tommis and Lucre stop and look at one another. "What do you want us to do?" Lucre asks.

"Ahh, the brains of the operation," the ISB officer says. "Same objectives. Secure the planet and quell any opposition, so that our financial partners can move in."

"What about your pet fleet up there?" The ISB sighs. "That is the fly in the ointment. Unfortunately, the commander is not under my direct control. If he sees that opposition grows, he will sweep in with his guns. So that is your incentive, if you don't want the place blown up around you."

Both Mandos nod. "Go forth and conquer, children," Antol says lightly. Both understand they have been dismissed. They turn and leave. Antol's smile disappears as they do.

"What do you want me to do, Leez?" Lardai asks. "What we are doing, Cant. We watch. I just hope that Tait's XO can keep him on a leash."

"Lieutenant Sloane certainly appears to be the real leader there," the commando agrees. Antol nods. "Signal the Revenue flotilla. Tell them to prepare to jump after any incursions in the system. They, unlike, Tait, are under my control."

"Aye, Aye, Major," comes the crisp reply.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lucre Wren waits until her husband is out of their quarters when they return to their new base. She pulls out a comm and signals a specific code. A regal looking woman, with dark eyes and dark hair, gazes out at her. She nods.

"The Imperials are waiting to see what we are going to do, _'alor_ ," she says in the old way, rather than the new title. "Tommis wants more troops, since we lost a number to Gerrera's faction. We have also received intelligence that Fenn Shysa and a few Protectors that he could scare up have landed. They could, in combination with the citizens, cause us more problems."

The regal woman looks thoughtful, her chin in her hand. "Yes, it could. What do you propose?" 

"If you could send us more troops....., maybe some of the Wren family retainers, we could...."

"No. I will not shed Wren blood on this world. You will have to use those mercenaries from our former acquaintances up. If you, do, I, and I alone will make the decision as to whether we continue." She continues to look calm. "This has been a costly endeavor. Though I still hold you in high regard, my dear, it has proven to me that even you cannot make up for my brother's shortcomings."

"It is why he asked me to call you," Lucre says. "Because he is too much of a coward to do it himself. Is he too stupid to see that he loses more respect from me?"

She closes her eyes. "He should've been the one to die, rather than J'ohlana. She was the smart one among all of us." She looks off screen. A small girl, with the same dark hair, bronze skin, and dark eyes, comes into view for a moment. Smudges of paint mark her small face. "Shh, 'bine. I'll look at your picture in a moment _ad'ika,_ " the woman says.

"Finish this," she says. "tell my brother that he will get no household troops from me." Her eyes bore through the young woman. "I would hate to have my _besk'ad_ drink from your pretty neck as well, dear."

Lucre nods and disconnects. On a distant snowy world, the powerful woman watches her daughter play. She thinks of what might have been, had her youngest sister had lived. If her Corellian Shysa had been there to advise her. Of the power and skill of those two forces. Of the one fact that none of her other siblings knew. That her brother-in-law was a Jedi. A Force-user with alliances to the Elder House of Corellia and the equivalent on Mandalore. The alliances that could've been made.

Countess Ursa Wren watches the young girl and thinks of lost possibilities for her clan.


	12. Chaos Controlled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....for now.
> 
> A Fulcrum risks all for an ungrateful world.

Ahsoka walks into the makeshift square. She had been brooding in the streets of the main settlement. The area around the jail had been cleaned up by the hard-working settlers. _At least the ones not fighting about how they were going to divide the spoils or keep the Empire at arm's length._

A tickle in her Force-sense intrudes into her thoughts. She smiles and walks across the square, careful to keep her hood and cowl up.

She sighs as she turns into an alley. _Probably should call it 'meditating,' rather than 'brooding,' like a good ex-Jedi._

A shorter figure stands in _beskar'gam_ at the end of the alley. Ahsoka smiles warmly at the signature. The figure starts to pull off its _buy'ce_. Tehlen Skirata's warm smile cuts through to Ahsoka's heart. _If she can smile like that, with what she has to deal with, then why the hell am I 'meditating?"_

Her smile fades. _Because I apparently look at the 'big picture,' now._

Ahsoka is engulfed in a pair of strong arms. "Ah- _Fulcrum_!", Tehlen corrects; her skin flushing even darker. "Sorry," she says. Ahsoka kisses her cheek. "It's okay, _Len'ika_ ," the huntress says. "Are you okay? We've been worried about you," the _cabur_ says.

"I'm okay, Protector. Just trying to get Saw and his buddies out of your hair."

"How is that working out for you, girl?" the Mando asks. 

"Oh, about as well as you could expect," Ahsoka says with the Smirk. Tehlen smiles. _Kinda got used to that Smirk, even in such a short time. I can see why Lassa, and even Drop, get all worried about her. She grins. Even though Drop isn't apparently supposed to know who she is; that she is alive._

Tehlen smiles as she thinks of Drop's daughter Talle. A girl who is not impressed by much, had looked up at the warrior with awe when she had sat in her lap. She shakes herself back to the present. She realizes that both of them still hold the embrace.

She releases Fulcrum. "Everybody will be glad that you are okay, _'alor,_ " the Protector says. Ahsoka starts at the title. She looks hard at the fighter. "Not your leader, Tehlen. I am just a soldier. I make it possible that the true leaders can do what they need to," she says quietly.

Tehlen rolls her eyes. "Whatever, honey. What do you need us to do? Balor is out; we have a few trained Mandalorian journeyman Protectors that will try and help us keep order until we can figure out what to do with that Imperial squadron. Lassa is sticking around, just on the edge if we need her, but I think she was just sticking around for you," she finishes.

Ahsoka laughs. "Don't underestimate my pirate's hidden heart, _Mando'ad._ I think that she surprises even herself sometimes."

 _Wonder who is responsible for that?_ Tehlen thinks. 

Her thoughts are written on her face. _Not just me, vod'ika. I think that a little Corellian influence went a long way at one time, as well._

Fulcrum makes a decision. "Tehlen, I am going to have to ask you to give me more time as far as Saw goes. If you see an opening that will minimize casualties, attack the Death Watch. I think that even though there may be political issues between the Wrens and the Shysas, that you should use those _cabur'e._ It will be good that your people will see that Mandalorians care for one another."

"Don't attack the Imperials directly yet. If I can get Saw out of here and keep the rest of the violence to a minimum, you might get a less heavy hand and can still salvage at least something of a resistance." Tehlen nods. "We can give it time to build, like you wanted it to," she says.

Ahsoka nods. They pull each other into an embrace again. "Be careful, Ahsoka. Don't let this turn into another Siege for you," Tehlen whispers. "That is what I am trying to avoid, babe," the Togruta whispers back.

Tehlen stands for a moment as she sees the ex-Jedi leap to the top of a building.

~+~+~+~+~+

Fenn Shy'sa, once the _Mand'alor;_ the High _Cabur_ of his world and his sector, shifts his legs on the uncomfortable roof. He peers through the range finder of his bucket at a nondescript building. A building with a great number of Death Watch assholes wandering in and out of it.

The large Mando-copy lies next to him; at the prone as well. He peers through macrobinoculars, with his uninjured hand at the building, as well. "So, Drop," Fenn casually says. "You interested in a life of adventure and mayhem?"

The ex-trooper smiles. "Already got that, Shysa," he says. "Don't need much more."

He pulls the macros down. His amber eyes look into the Mando's green ones. He is able to suppress the memories that those eyes and ones just like them bring. "Got some things I have to do, Fenn," he says quietly. "Working for Fulcrum is just one of them." He looks pensively at the building. "Since I know who they are, now, it is something even more important. Even though it would be better that she doesn't know who I am."

Fenn looks at him. "It is something that I owe Taliesin. I know what they meant to each other back before the world went to shit," Drop finishes.

The Shysa nods. "Don't you think that I should let Tal know that you are alive? It would take a great deal of grief off of his heart, knowing that his brother is alive. Plus," he says with a grin. "He might be a little bit useful." Drop mirrors his grin. "A tiny bit." he says.

His smile fades. "No," he says. "I think that it is best in these times that those of us that fought together, should stay apart. We might be more effective that way, until the time is right."

Fenn nods, thoughtful. "So what about you, Shysa?" Drop asks. "You going to stay here, fight the good fight, roger the _Cabur_ cross-eyed and raise little Mandos?"

"Probably not, Drop." he says. "I am enjoying having my Wild Shriek-hawks with me again."

"How come you weren't on Mandalore during the war, Fenn? It sounds like they could've used you."

The _Mand'alor_ looks down. "Even though I had sworn an oath to Duchess Satine, as the ruler of Mandalore, I think she was uncomfortable that the clans had chosen me to be the _Mand'alor,_ as a compromise. Someone from her House, if not her clan, that they could trust."

He pulls a flask out and drinks from it. Drop listens intently as he takes his offered sip. "She as much as told me so. I took the twenty-five or so best fighters and left the rest of the Protectors there, as well as someone she and I could both trust. The Republic offered us a job on Kamino, to take more control over training from the long-necks. A compromise, of sorts, between the Forgotten Ones that Jango brought in before the Jedi found out, and those next to useless assholes that they were using."

"I left the journeyman Protectors that looked the best in the ceremonial armor to be the pretty palace guards." He looks down. "I don't know how I feel. On one hand, I met one of the best people I had ever thought of learning from - General Ti. On the other, I wonder what I might have done to save my world."

"You can't think like that, Fenn. You can only live with it," Drop says quietly. Fenn nods. "I can see what my nephew saw in you, Sergeant-Major. You have _Mandokar_ to spare." He looks at Drop; is thoughtful for a moment. He turns and places his hands on the giant's shoulders. "Kal wouldn't do this, but I will be proud to."

 _"Tarre. Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad._ " Drop's eyes widen. The last time he had heard those words; he was speaking them himself. To a little girl in a Jedi healing center. The day that the world died. The last time he had seen Elle. _I know your name as my child._

Once again, for the second time in as many days, Drop has no comeback. Fenn smiles. "Don't get any ideas, hardhead. I don't have anything to give you. Don't call me 'dad' and don't, under any circumstances, have Talle call me 'grandpa'. I am much too young and virile for that."

Fenn's comm beeps. He reads the text on his HUD. "Good news," he says. "Fulcrum is okay. She is working on Saw's assholes. She says to take care of the Wrens, if possible, but don't attack the Imperials directly. Let's go."

"Okay, Pops," comes the reply.

The true _Mand'alor_ rolls his eyes. _I am going to regret this._

~+~+~+~+~+

As Ahsoka enters Saw's hideout, he looks up from a datapad. A datapad that looks to be on the same page that she had left it on. _Guess that I wasn't the only one 'meditating.'_

Saw pushes a cup towards her. She smiles as she brings the caf to her lips. _How can he remember how I took my caf, after all that has happened?_

His expression is set. She doesn't like the look of it. She remembers back over the years and parsecs. The last time that she had seen that expression, he went off and tried to get the king out by himself. _Probably because he was pouting over Steela having been chosen leader over him._

This time, he defies her expectations.

"I think that I probably should cut my losses and leave, Jedi," he says quietly. "There are other places that I can fight more effectively." He looks down at his cup. "I think that I might've been misled by Rhose. She led me to believe that it was more clear-cut here; that we would be welcome."

 _You think?_ runs through Ahsoka's mind, but she says nothing. "I personally would not find it amiss if you dropped her in a pit of rancors, but that would be cruel to the rancors."

He laughs. "I may have miscalculated when I let her be the advance party here. She was new, but she had done good on some missions. Thought the fact that she was Mando, or claimed to be, would help here." He gives a rueful smile. "I think that she thrives on chaos, rather than any cause."

This time, Ahsoka can't remain silent. "Really? I hadn't noticed," she says dryly. "Maybe I should have when she was applying the electricity to me, or when she had her fingers dug into my bleeding knife wound."

His eyes flash blue at her. "Maybe, she does what she needs to do to get the job done," he says dangerously. 

She doesn't back down. "Or maybe your methods attract people like her. People who seem to orgasm when violence and chaos are present."

They are both silent in their anger. Finally, Saw relaxes. "I didn't mean to start another fight, Ahsoka. As soon as I can gather everyone and sneak past those buckethead ships, I will be out of your lekku." They both stand and embrace. "I think that I will someday regret that we didn't make love last night, Tano. But I think that we did the right thing."

She nods and pulls him tighter into the embrace. Her eyebrow markings raise. "Speaking of your daughter of chaos, where is she?"

~+~+~+~+~+

Lucre Wren stalks away from their new headquarters, another block building away from the cafe that they had been in. She kicks a piece of _beskar_ lying in her path. She had left the compound with a large group of the remaining Death Watch fighters, heading to kill the known leaders of the so-called Committee of Public Safety.

She and Tommis had vehemently disagreed over the course of action to take. She had wanted to kill the interlopers with Saw Gerrera. This would bring them into favor with Antol and the Imperials, making it easier for the Imperial commandos to help them roll up the weaker idiots.

Tommis had invoked clan seniority when their disagreement had threatened to come to blows. Usually they had let it; then had soothed ruffled feathers and hurt with each other's bodies.

Tommis was afraid. Afraid that he could not show his clan leader that he could handle a task like this. Lucre smiles. _He was right to be afraid. He can't. She is the secret to his success._

A movement in an alley catches her attention. She brings her carbine up. The hooded figure steps into the light and holds their hands up. "Don't shoot! I have information for you!" She steps into the dim light at the gesture. "Who are you?" she asks suspiciously. "I am a member of the Merrik clan. I think that my ' _alor_ is wrong not to support you and the Empire."

The figure does not show their face. Lucre nods slowly. _She can understand about going against clan. She is about to do it._

"What have you got for me?" she asks. 

"The offworlders. Gerrera and the Togruta. They are located at the old farm warehouse over north of the jail. They are weakened and the Togruta is threatening to kill them all. My clan leader thinks that Gerrera is going to kill her before the next few hours are up."

"How did your clan leader get this information?"

"Skirata, the Protector, is said to be angry at both and may kill them." The figure stops. "If you hurry, you can get both of them; maybe even the Protector."

Lucre looks at her lieutenant. One loyal to her. He turns and motions to the soldiers to follow them. Lucre pulls out a handful of Imperial credits. "Keep your money. Just remember me when it comes time for the spoils."

Lucre is already turning away and jogging in the direction indicated.

Behind her, Rhose Zan Arbor lowers her hood and smiles. _Almost too easy. They are so anxious to kill everybody._ Rhose turns and starts to run in a slightly different direction. _Maybe if I kill all of the Death Watchers, Saw will be more forgiving when I cut that bitch Fulcrum's headtails off._

Rhose thinks no further than that as she moves out. As she usually does. She only thinks of the mayhem and chaos that will ensue.

She really doesn't care about what cause she is doing it for. She is her mother's child. 

Unbeknownst to her, her father, a man she shares her warrior's blood with, is preparing to attack another target. One that may fulfill a cause that he fights for. A cause that he has adopted from a beautiful young Protector who holds his heart.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lucre Wren strides into the warehouse building. Her two dozen fighters spread out through the deserted offices and warehouse floor. The building is silent. She looks through the night vision of her bucket. There aren't even any heat sources in the warehouse.

Her brows knit under her helmet. She sees several tiny lights blinking around the room. Her eyes widen as she realizes that she was too eager. Something that she has prided herself on fighting the impulses of.

She screams over her comm. "Get out! Evacuate!"

She is yelling as she runs. She makes it out of the door and is out about twenty meters before the world explodes and goes dark.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka Tano is still holding Saw in a tight embrace, when the world shakes and shifts with a huge explosion.

_Found her._

She and Saw manage to make it outside, just in time to see a plume of orange flame rise into the air on the other side of the small settlement. 

They look at one another. Saw pulls out his comm. "Rhose! Two-tubes! Where are you?" he says. He hears the language of the latter fighter. _+Near the ship,+_ he says. + _I've only got ten fighters with me.+_ "Hold there. I think Rhose just wore out our welcome," Saw says. The young Mando does not respond. As he turns, he realizes that Ahsoka is running full-speed for the chaos before him.

Even at this distance, and having no Force-sensitivity, he can feel her anger.

His own grows.

~+~+~+~+~+

Rhose Zan Arbor fires her blaster in an unending series of bursts. The few surviving Death Watch scum return fire, but only desultorily. Her small contingent of fighters presses the attack until the Mandos are grounding their weapons. The ten remaining fighters of her cadre move in. They yank the helmets off of the kneeling _Kyrt'sad._ Rhose walks up in triumph.

None of the warriors are an icy blonde woman or a hulking dark-haired, dark-eyed male with slab-like features and incongruously delicate hands.

She replaces the power pack in her blaster. She walks up behind the line of prisoners.

The muzzle of her blaster is placed at the back of the first head. She steels herself and pulls the trigger. She moves to the next kneeling figure. She hears a dual humming noise approaching fast. She smiles. _Guess we'll settle it here,_ she thinks. 

Three of her fighters; those loyal to her that she had brought to Saw turn and open fire on the approaching saber-wielder. She realizes that the Togruta's face is covered. 

A swing of the right lightsaber, a blue shaft of light, deflects the beam into the face of her lieutenant. The other two look at one another and sychronize their fire at the young woman. In an impossible move, she leaps and twists, deflecting both into two others who have raised their weapons at her.

Her sabers end in a crossing reverse as her boots touch the ground. Both of her remaining opponents fall; their upper bodies separated from their lower on a diagonal. 

Ahsoka turns towards the other five fighters and the young woman. The remaining prisoners take the opportunity to flee. Rhose's fighters start to circle her warily, but do not raise their weapons. The ex-Jedi takes a deep breath and centers herself from the grief. It is at this moment that she sees the cost of Saw's presence on this world.

Stornani lay on the ground around the square, mostly stunned by the explosion. Others who are unwounded are assisting with trying to care for the more seriously injured. She sheathes her blades and begins to walk towards the nearest injured. She turns her back on Rhose and the other fighters. 

As she does, one more blaster shot splits the night. She turns slowly. 

Saw Gerrera stands with a smoking blaster. Rhose Zan Arbor drops her blaster where she was pointing it at Ahsoka's back and slowly falls to the ground. Saw walks over and looks over the woman. There is a blackened spot in her _buy'ce_. She moans. Ahsoka realizes that the blaster bolt was glancing, rather than a direct hit.

She stands and walks over to him. "See what you taught her?"she says quietly. Tehlen Skirata walks up to them. Her blaster is held loosely pointed at Saw. "I think that you should go," she says, steel in her voice. He looks at her. "Who are you?" he asks.

"I am the Protector of this world. You've worn out your welcome." She smiles. "Not that we ever even fucking asked you to come here in the first place," she says darkly.

Saw nods after a moment. "We'll go," he says simply. He looks at Ahsoka. "You have given me a few things to think about, Fulcrum. I will not stop hating the Empire and doing my damndest to slaughter them. But I think that I might take a little bit more care."

"You're almost too late for that, Saw," Ahsoka says. "If this had been a residential neighborhood or not a bunch of deserted warehouses, we might be having a different discussion, now." Her blue eyes grow hard. "One you might not like."

She makes no move to say goodbye. Her eyes are cold. "I will make it my business to oppose you, Saw. I will make it the business of the movement to oppose your methods, as much as I can," she says quietly. "I will not have what I am giving my life for, what my loved ones give their lives for, sullied and turned into what we are fighting against."

He nods without speaking. He turns and directs two of his fighters to pick up Rhose. Ahsoka raises an eyebrow marking. "Do you want her?" he asks. "I will leave her for you."

She shakes her head. "Not my way," she says simply. "I know," he smiles sadly. "I can't leave her here. I'll take care of her." He shakes his head at her look. "Not that way, Jedi."

She looks down. "Take care of yourself, Saw."

"Goodbye, Ahsoka. Try to learn to live." He turns and moves towards the spaceport.

Ahsoka closes her eyes at his words. Tehlen touches her shoulder. "How bad is it?" Fulcrum asks.

"Like you said. Lot of empty buildings destroyed. A few serious injuries, but no dead, yet." Tehlen rolls her eyes as she sees Ahsoka's expression. "Lassa told me that you would try to blame yourself for it. Seems like you did what you could."

"Yeah. I am a real hero. I had to kill several potential allies." she says. She turns and begins to help with the injured. She stops as blaster fire starts towards the north. "That is Balor and our Mandos. We found where their headquarters is," Tehlen says. "Don't worry. We are trying to take them alive." Ahsoka sighs and continues to work. 

She notices several armed Stornani dragging someone behind them. They notice her and start to turn towards her. Their weapons start to rise. She rolls her eyes and stands up, facing them. She places her hands on the two rescued sabers at her hips.

She looks at the figure being dragged. Scorched armor with a different sigil than Death Watch protects the young blonde woman from the kicks and blows of the bystanders. She remembers the briefing from Tehlen. Her memory searches for a name. _Lucre._

She walks over and starts shoving the attackers away. Tehlen follows her. She pulls her blaster again. "Get away from her. She is a prisoner."

"She is a murderer," says the apparently ringleader, a Merrik. "Tear her apart," comes a yell from the back. 

Ahsoka's eyes flash at the collection. Tehlen recognizes the 'idiots' as Drop called them.

As well as others. "You are all awfully brave, now that everybody else has done all of the fighting for you," Ahsoka says. 

"What do you mean?" says Idiot _Aurek,_ known to his family as Gege Merrik. "We haven't seen you do any fighting," he says. Tehlen winces. Ahsoka's face grows still. "I was called here," she says, almost in a whisper.

"Yes," he says. "We will probably be revisiting the employment of the one who called you here."

Tehlen's own anger rises. Without a word, she pulls out the Protector's insignia from beneath her shirt. She snatches it from her neck, breaking the chain. She throws it at Merrik. "I quit." 

"Now, wait a minute," says the woman know as Idiot _Besh,_ a representative of the Kryze clan. "Let's stop for a minute..."

"Nope. I'm done." She turns to Ahsoka. "I withdraw the request for help, Fulcrum." She can sense the smile from behind the cowl. Tehlen turns and walks away. There is stunned silence. Ahsoka's Smirk can almost be felt. "Guess I am done here."

She turns and follows Tehlen. Without a word, she grabs Lucre Wren by the collar. The woman, who is conscious now, stumbles behind her. 

No one protests. 

A loud rumble starts to grow from above.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lieutenant Rae Sloane comes more alert as the sensor operator speaks up. "XO, we have a large explosion in the main settlement. Very large."

"Boost the gain on the sensors. I want to know what is going on," 

"Aye, aye, Lieutenant."

"Heavy blasterfire from the north of the explosion," the technician says. "Are our forces engaged, at all?" Rae asks.

"Lieutenant Commander Lardai reports they are under cover and observing the attack. Seems to be another group of Mandos fighting." The comm operator looks down. "Major Antol is on her way up here."

"Report, XO," comes the smooth tones of her captain, Poken Tait. His bland face shows no emotion as she repeats what has happened through gritted teeth. "Captain," the sensor operator says. "A corvette-class has jumped into the midst of the Revenue cutters. They are firing on it and launching their fighters."

Tait's eyes flash in the first show of emotion in his bronzed face. His mustache twitches in frustration as he sees the cutters begin to pursue the fleeing corvette.

"Get them back here. Order them back, Sloane!"

"They aren't under our orders, Commander," she says, deliberately refusing to call him 'captain.'

He glares at her. "Prepare to enter atmosphere. Weapons Officer, bring the main batteries online. Once we are in range, begin to bombard the settlement, starting from the outskirts, into where the explosion took place, and then over to where the engagement is."

"Commander, we have friendlies down there. Naval commandos and allies. Plus, we will turn the entire populace against us."

"Do as I say, Sloane. Your pet Admiral won't save you from a blaster squad if you don't obey. The commandos have made their bed with ISB. I don't care about a bunch of Mandos. There will be order, so that my Emperor can exploit the riches there!"

 _Your Emperor?_ she thinks. She turns and nods to the other officers.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka turns as she sees the light cruiser enter the atmosphere. She sees the wedge-shape with the bow-mandibles begin to angle downward. She knows instantly what is about to happen.

The ground shakes as the lancing beams of light begin to touch the grounds. She looks to the outskirts of the settlement, as explosions erupt from the ground where the beams touch.

_Full turbolaser bombardment, she thinks. Not a full Stardestroyer, but still powerful turbolasers. Just not as many of them._

She thinks of something that she had read as a youngling. About a Jedi Master protecting the escape of a city from a close-atmo bombardment during the Mandalorian wars. She looks at the lightsabers that she has brought with her. She remembers the overpowered blades. 

Ahsoka Tano instantly knows why she is there. Why the Force called for her to bring those sabers instead of her own, partially finished ones.

She tries to recall if the Jedi Master survived or not.

She is pretty sure she did not. She shakes her head. There is no time. She turns to Tehlen, who is rapt. "Get those survivors out of there, Tehlen. Get them to the hills, if you must. I am going to try to buy you some time." She hands the half-stunned Lucre to her.

"What the hell are you going to do, Ahsoka?" she asks, abandoning code names.

"Oh, something fairly stupid." She brings Tehlen's head to hers, tightly. "Go, now. Protect your people, _cabur."_

She turns and is gone. Tehlen sees her leap to the top of a building. Her eyes tear, as she begins her litany of Remembrance. She also says words that she never thought she would say, given her heritage.

_May the Force be with you, Ahsoka Tano._

~+~+~+~+~+

Drop, now know as Tarre Tredecima, feels his blaster growing hot. The Death Watch assholes in the building are few, but are putting up a fierce fire. He feels the rumble from the air. He and Fenn look at one another. He looks back at the explosion site. He pulls his binocs up. He sees a pair of shafts of light ignite. One blue, one green. He zooms the macrobinoculars. His heart sinks as he sees the tall figure, her powerful orange arms bare, standing.

Facing the barrage coming towards her. _No, Mouse. Don't do anything stupid._

He turns towards Fenn, his amber eyes wide. "Go. We'll hold here."

As he runs, he checks a pouch on his belt. He pulls out an injector, with three marks on it. _Marks for human, Pantoran, and Togruta,_ he remembers Lassa's battered med-droid telling him. _Taldrenal. Inject it directly in the heart, within a few beats either way of it stopping._

He runs faster.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka Tano, once a Padawan in the great Jedi Order in its last two decades of existence, slowly opens her eyes as she centers herself and calls on the Force. She throws off her robe and pulls the sabers into her hands. She moves the power setting past the stops that some long ago Jedi had put in place. She smiles softly as she thinks of the patient, but fussy droid, Huyang as she constructed her first lightsaber. _Well done, young one. A fine blade for a young huntress._

Her vision blurs as she thinks of her dead. _I know that they say we lose all consciousness when we join the Force, but I hope I can catch a glimpse of them. At least feel their presence around me._

_Not even sure that I will join the Force. I may not deserve it._

She clears her mind. She feels the Force build in her senses. She sees the tricolored lights that have been nagging at her for the past months. She feels a warmth come over her. She sees a scarred blue eye smiling at her. A pair of amber eyes under close-cropped blonde hair with a dry voice.

She sees a warm grin and green eyes; feels the touch of warm skin on hers.

The power swells to the height of the approaching cruiser. She ignites her sabers. Their glows are more powerful than the sun of this world. 

This world where she will lie. She begins a litany that she has not recited in years.

_I am one with the Force; the Force is with me._

She sees the beams coming towards her. She releases the Force through her sabers as the beams strike her blades.

A multicolored light lances into her vision; expanding where it is all she can see. She can feel the sabers and the energy expanding up her hands. She focuses her mind on the energy, feels it receding for a moment.

Only for a moment. She pushes her sabers forward. They grow hot in her hands; through her bracers.

She pushes. She sees Croft's face in her mind. She moves past it and pushes again. She feels the beams held in the Force begin to give. 

To slowly creep back along the axis. 

_I am one with the Force, the Force is with me._

The beams relent and are repelled from her. She feels the energy discharge from her sabers arcing on her arms.

Ahsoka feels her sabers expanding with the energy. She drops them.

There is a burst of light as they explode, and then screaming. As she collapses, she realizes the screaming is her own.

_Baa'je._

~+~+~+~+~+

Sloane jumps into action as she sees the bolts returning. Tait is frozen. "Cease fire," she says. "Evasive, starboard!"

The helm hesitates, as she looks to Tait. 

It is just enough as the shields are struck by the bolts. Instead of splashing harmlessly against them; the bolts travel to their sources.

The main turbolaser batteries. Sloane manages to reach the helm and throw it over.

Just as the world explodes around them.

~+~+~+~+~+

Saw watches as the _Arquitens_ moves into the atmosphere from the port of his small ship. Around him, his remaining fighters sit slumped. At least five of them are in binders, without weapons.

He looks down as the blasts track towards the explosion area. He sees a tiny figure on a roof. Two bright shafts of light erupt from the figure's hands. His eyes sharpen as he sees the green blaster beams from the cruiser float almost lazily towards her.

Her name comes unbidden to his mind. His hand flies to the clearsteel of the port. _Ahsoka! No!_

He sees a flash as the powerful bolts intersect. More flashes and the bolts return the way that they came.

He looks down. Energy discharge, and then a powerful explosion of light erupts.

He can see nothing moving on the roof. His eyes fall. He turns away, his eyes closed.

His mind travels to another young woman, as he sees them standing together on a lost world. He sees them laughing together.

_Goodbye, Ahsoka._

He looks down at Rhose Zan Arbor. Her helmet is off; the left side of her face is bruised.

"Will she be alright?" he asks. The medic nods. "Yeah. She will have a headache for awhile, but no lasting damage." His eyes grow hard. "No more than there already is."

The young Togruta flies to his vision again. His eyes track to the outer hatch of the ship. His hands grasp her armor.

 _No. It is not what she would want._ He releases the young woman. "Keep her unconscious," he says. "Strip her of her armor and weapons, and leave her with a bit of money on some forgotten world."

Two-tubes; his chief lieutenant, simply nods.

~+~+~+~+~+

Drop ignores the small fires and energy discharge as he manages to make it to the roof of the building. "No," he yells as he sees the crumpled figure in the center of the roof. 

A figure that looks as small as she had when he first knew her. He drops his blaster and crouches by her. He turns her over. 

Her clothes are in shreds, but she is only marked by small burns and cuts.

Until he looks at her hands. 

The leather bracers melted to her forearms. Small pieces of blackened skin hanging off.

He looks at her face. His brother's beloved hunt-sister. It is strangely calm.

Her breathing is shallow. Almost non-existent. He rips the remnants of her shirt open. He places his ear against her chest.

The beat is thready, and slowing.

He makes the choice. He pulls the injector from his belt. He sees the mark with the downward arrow of _Trill_ and moves it towards the indicator.

Drop places the tip near her skin. He positions it a couple of centimeters above her chest. _Forgive me, Mouse. This is going to hurt. You can give me shit about it later._

He plunges the injector. The young woman convulses. A scream is wrenched from her mouth. He fights to inject the remainder of the prescribed dose. Tears fall down his cheeks. Tears he had only shed before on one night of horror.

 _When his love had vanished._ He throws the spent injector aside. He touches her face, now wracked with raw pain.

~+~+~+~+~+

Rae Sloane watches as the captain of her cruiser stands amid the chaos, frozen. "Tait," she barks, no longer bothering with the niceties. "What the hell are your orders?"

"Don't bother, Rae, dear," comes a warm, dry voice from behind her. She turns, as does the Captain. There is a burst of noise and light from the small blaster in her hands.

Rae flinches; turns to her right. Tait lies on the deck, a small smoking hole in the exact center of his forehead. 

Major Leeza Antol holsters the weapon. She turns to the rest of the crew. "I have just relieved him, using ISB protocol _Aurek_ -212. Any objections?"

No one speaks. 

"Rae, you're in command. What is the damage?"

"Everything is overloaded. Sublight engines are down; one of them is blown. All weapons are down except for concussion missiles and proton torpedoes. Life support is failing." She raises her lips in a sneer; an expression incongruous on her beautiful features. "Long range comms are down. We have short-range. No sensors, though."

"How many casualties?"

"Fifteen dead." She looks down at Tait. "Sixteen dead. The rest of the crew are pretty banged up."

"How long before we pancake?" 

"Seven minutes."

"Recall the cutters. What have we got that works?"

"Hyperdrive and navicomputer relatively undamaged. She gives Antol a hard look. "Relatively. It will take us a couple of weeks to get back to Rear-Admiral Konstantine's squadron. We have just enough fuel."

"Very well. Signal the cutters to join us."

"What about Stornan?"

Antol smiles at her. A wolffish smile. "There is more than one way to get what we need. With this little setback, I might be able to convince COMPNOR to try it my way." Rae's eyes widen. The Commission for the Protection of the New Order. The clearinghouse for Imperial Intelligence and Security. Leeza smiles at the young woman. "You have done well, Rae. I think you have a distinguished career ahead of you."

"Major, Ground force on short range for you."

"Hey, Cant. Going to have to leave you for a bit. Go to ground, hide, and observe. Nothing more."

"Understood, Leez. Bring the ale."

"You know it, dear."

"Major?" 

"Yes, Captain?" Rae's eyes widen again at the title. "What is _Aurek_ -212?"

"Hell if I know."

~+~+~+~+~+

Teon Jenks waits for the door to open to the cell in the medcenter wing of the Old Capitol Detention Facility. The security officer beckons him in.

His eyes widen as he sees the man that he knew as a reporter for some Coruscant gossip rag. A man now lying unconscious in restraints.

It had taken Teon several days to locate where he was being held, due to the fact that they had no one held named Mace Mundi.

"His name is Bryne Covenant. He is an Inspector with CorSec. He was poking around where he shouldn't have been. We had him in the drunk tank." He smirks. "Professional courtesy."

Teon's eyes harden, as does the person's behind him. "Few hours ago, he suddenly started screaming; then went catatonic. Med-droids can't seem to figure anything out."

Teon turns to the officer. "Get out." he says quietly. "Now wait a minute," the officer says, "Just because you were about to fuck him...."

Teon Jinks suddenly proves why he is so valuable to his employer. His eyes lock on the officer. He doesn't have to repeat himself.

The officer leaves. Teon looks down at the man strapped to the bed. He hears slight noises from the patient.

He leans closer. There are two words.

_Runt._

It is the second word that brings a gasp from the woman behind him.

_Ahsoka._

He looks back at his employer.

Riyo Chuchi's face is pale.


End file.
